Any Light in the Darkness
by GD-7
Summary: Post Voldemort - The war continues with Lucius taking up the reins. Harry, left blind from his battle with Voldemort, is hidden away. Draco, broken in both body and soul, is charged with watching over him. Slightly AU - Contains Slash - Challenge answer
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - this universe all belongs to J.K. Of course. All that is mine is my own words written below.

This is just a little fluff piece story written for a challenge. Well, there's very little 'fluffy' about it, but I don't intend for it to go anywhere. As such - Setting: Most of J.K.'s work is observed - Exceptions: Lucius Malfoy did NOT turn into a wuss (how that effected Draco's life will undoubtedly be covered in the story). Just forget the whole Draco trying to kill Harry with magical fire thing while you're at it. I choose to view that as Crabbe's idea. Harry did not fall for Ginny (what may have 'really' occurred in his love life will probably be discussed in the story) and we are of course entirely ignoring the flash forward that occurred at the end. Other changes - The final showdown between Harry and Voldemort was rather more violent, and Harry, while of course victorious, was badly injured and blinded (and it _is_ permanent with no lame work-arounds, as per the requirements of the challenge). If there are any other little discrepancies, just assume I meant to change that :) The HP Lexicon is down due to that total BS lawsuit (I want one of those bloody reference books she is so stubbornly blocking from being sold!!), so I don't have my usual source to refer to and I really don't feel like looking it up and rereading book seven since I've only read that once right when it came out, so I might have forgotten bits. Moving on... After Voldemort's demise, many of his followers (and there were quite a few left) were able to escape, and under Lucius' leadership, they aren't giving up quite so easily (I never quite bought the idea that they'd all go "Oh crap, Voldy's gone. I give up. Take me off to Azkaban."). Battles still rage, but considering his injuries and the fact that he completed his part, Harry has been taken and hidden away in a safe house. Due to the heavy death toll the war has taken and the continuing battles, there is only one person watching over him. Just for shits and giggles, I'm going to try to write it entirely from Harry's perspective (refer back to the whole _he's blind_ part to see why that would be a 'different' method).

Warnings: contains slash and other adult situations, possibly graphic descriptions and suicidal issues. If you can't handle any of those, please hit the Back button now. Rated M for (very) good reason.

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Any Light in the Darkness  
Chapter 1

Harry stirred. The first thing he became aware of was pain. Not surprising. The only thing that _was_ surprising was finding himself still breathing. He'd thought for sure it was the end when last he remembered. The darkness around him was absolute, and at first he thought it must be the middle of the night, but slowly he became aware of the feel of cloth over his eyes. His mind was having a hard time clearing the lethargy that clouded it, but he worked at it, rising slowly higher in consciousness. There was movement and he shivered as cool liquid was swabbed on his shoulder.

He tried to speak, but his voice was little more than a weak growling sound. He coughed, trying to clear his throat and the person beside him shifted. He felt a hand slip under his head and lift it a bit as the edge of a glass was pressed to his lips. He knew he should have been leery, but the touch of the cool liquid on his lips made him realize how desperately thirsty he was. He drank it and discovered it to be fresh pumpkin juice. He wanted to gulp it, but whomever was holding the glass only tilted it enough for slow, steady consumption. It almost felt teasing in its moderation.

Once the glass was empty, his head was set back down and he could hear the glass set aside, then whomever it was went back to tending to his shoulder. "Who are you?" He finally managed, his voice sounding old and tired. "Where am I?"

If they heard, the person beside him gave no response, the attention given to his shoulder not pausing in the slightest. Apparently they were finishing up as he felt a clean bandage being placed over the wound. He could feel the wound as a dull, angry aching, but thankfully whomever it was appeared to be quite expert at such activities and caused him no further pain while binding it. Still, the fact that the person wouldn't speak was starting to get to him.

"What happened? Is the war over?" He asked, gasping a bit with the effort. He felt weak and exhausted. He tried to move, but couldn't even manage to sit up. A hand was placed flat on his chest, holding him down (not that he'd been making much progress anyway), the implication to stop trying to move clear. From the size and shape of the hand, he was at least reasonably sure now that whomever it was, he was male. Not much to go on, but it was something at least.

The blanket was drawn up to cover him, then he felt the person rise from where they had apparently been sitting beside him on what he was reasonably certain was a bed. He heard footsteps, the soft padding of bare feet on a stone floor, walking away from him. From the slight muffling after a moment, it sounded as if he walked into another room, but he couldn't be certain. The footsteps paused and he heard a click, then a soft creaking sound, like an old hinge. There was a light, tinkling ringing of a small bell, then the creaking came again, followed by a click. A small cabinet perhaps. He wasn't used to not being able to simply look over and see what it was he was hearing, and it was getting increasingly frustrating.

There was mostly silence for a time after that. His host did no more than mill about, alternately pacing a bit and leaning against the door frame from the ever so slight creaking of old wood. Since it was obvious he wouldn't be getting answers by simply asking, Harry spent the time trying to figure out where he was. He was pretty sure it wasn't somewhere he'd ever been before. The smells were strange and unknown to him. There were vague scents of age and slight mustiness like a place long unused. There was a fireplace nearby. He could smell smoke and hear the soft hissing and crackling of a low burning fire. He tried to figure out what kind of wood was burning. He wasn't sure if it would give him any clue as to where he was, but he was so limited in what information he could gather that anything, no matter how trivial, helped ease the growing anxiety within him. Maple. Or was it oak? After a great deal of internal debate he realized why it was so hard to discern. He was almost certain they had mixed logs from both.

He started as he heard the crack of someone Apparating. A flash of fear went through him, a wild instant where he thought he'd been left alone, blind and pathetically weak as he was in this strange place... but then he heard the swish of a robe and realized with a flood of relief that it had been someone arriving, not his host departing.

There was some soft whispering, then a pause, followed by a very familiar trill of joy. "Harry! You're awake!" Hermione squealed in obvious relief as she scampered across the room, dropping down on the bed beside him and carefully draping herself across him. "We were so worried!" she sighed into the side of his neck.

The arm with the wounded shoulder didn't appear to want to obey him, but the other arm wrapped around her a bit jerkily. He held her to him as hard as he could, though he doubted there was much strength in it. "Hermione!" He gasped in a shuddering breath, overwhelmed with a wave of relief. "I thought you were dead! I saw so many die... and when he wouldn't speak to me..."

There was a little, irritated snort. "And what would you have thought if I'd spoken before your little girlfriend got here?" An all too familiar voice replied.

Harry tensed. "Malfoy?" He hissed in shock.

"Calm down, Harry." Hermione said quickly, "It's alright."

"But he's one of them!" Harry protested.

Hermione shifted up, obviously looking back at Draco. "Um... could you...?"

"Whatever." Draco said rather indifferently.

Hermione waited as Draco walked away, his footsteps seemed heavier than they had been before, leading Harry to surmise Draco was a bit more irritated by his reaction than he let on. The sound of a door being closed a touch harder than appeared to be warranted seemed to confirm it. Hermione flinched slightly at the sound of it, then she turned her attention back to Harry. "Please don't be like this Harry." She said softly.

"What are you talking about? He was working for bloody Vold..." He was cut off by a hand being clapped over his mouth.

"Don't say that name! _He_ may be gone, but it's still not safe! I don't know if it could break this strong of a charm, but I'd rather not chance it!"

"The war's not over?!" Harry asked once her hand was removed.

Hermione sighed sadly. "No. The Death Eaters are still strong. We'd hoped they would lose heart and give up, or at least flee when they lost their leader, but they didn't. They just got a new one. Lucius Malfoy."

"Lucius Malfoy?! Then why the bloody Hell would you leave me here with his bloody son?!" Harry demanded.

"Harry... don't you remember what Draco did? He saved our lives when he refused to identify you when we were caught... one word from him and we would have all died."

"Maybe he wasn't sure it was me and was just covering his arse." Harry countered testily.

"Don't be daft, Harry. I could still recognize you, and I'm sure Draco would have had no problem. He stayed silent so we would have a chance to live... a chance to escape."

"You seem to be forgetting how he tried to kill Dumbledore!" Harry persisted.

"_You_ seem to be forgetting that he _didn't!_ He had the chance. He had Dumbledore disarmed. He could have killed him, but he didn't. He didn't because, despite what a prat he may have been to us at Hogwarts, and despite how much he himself may deny it... underneath it all, he's a decent human being. He couldn't take a life, even of someone he despised. You saw him at school after he'd been given the order to kill Dumbledore. The way he started wasting away and looking more and more distraught. He fixed that pathway into Hogwarts and let the Death Eaters in in hopes that they would do the job for him, because deep down he knew he couldn't. _You Know Who_ had threatened to kill his whole family if he didn't succeed. What would you have done?"

Harry mulled that over for a minute, then sighed. The last year had done much to change his view of Draco. Three years ago, or maybe even less, if someone had asked him, he would have told them without hesitation that Draco was an arrogant, evil, conceited, loathsome little Death Eating ferret that he despised to his core. But after seeing him while he was trying to plan Dumbledore's murder, and especially after Dumbledore's death when he saw Voldemort forcing Draco to torture for him... the look on Draco's face... And no matter how hard he tried to deny it, even to himself, he remembered all too well the spark of recognition in Draco's eyes when his father had told him to identify Harry. He was never sure quite why, but deep down he'd always known that Draco lied for him that day. He could have said it was Harry and gained a great deal of respect, especially in his father's eyes... but he'd chosen to remain silent. Somewhere down the line, that had to count for something. Still, it was hard for Harry to just accept Draco's sudden defection on face value alone. "Well how do you know he won't just take me and hand me over to his father to get back in his good graces?"

Hermione sighed sadly. "You've been unconscious for a rather long time, Harry. Well over a month. Mrs. Weasley and I were watching over you in the beginning, but the Order needs every able bodied witch and wizard they can get right now, so we had to find someone else. Draco has been tending to you, on _his own_ mind you, for almost two weeks now. Don't you think if he was planning to do something he'd have done it by now? Besides, there's no going back for him, Harry. He's here because this is the only place safe enough to keep him. You two top the Death Eaters' target list right now. His father has openly blamed Draco entirely for you winning the battle."

"What did _he_ have to do with it? I don't recall him out there fighting by my side!" Harry growled.

"No... but he's the reason the wand wouldn't work for You Know Who. _Draco_ took it from Dumbledore, not Snape. If Draco had told _Him_ that, _He_ could have merely bested Draco in a fight and had full control, you would be dead and the war would be completely lost."

"So he was afraid to admit he'd chickened out!" Harry insisted, struggling to sit up once more.

Hermione quickly placed her hands on him to hold him down. "Don't, Harry. You're still not fully recovered."

Harry let out a huff of frustration, "You said it's been over a month. Why the bloody Hell aren't I better yet?"

"Wounds from particularly dark curses take longer to heal, as you should well know. The wound on your shoulder should be gone soon so long as it keeps getting the treatments on time, and you should regain your strength rather quickly now that you're awake and can eat proper food, and moving around will get your muscles back into shape. They haven't been inactive for that terribly long, so it shouldn't take them long to regain strength."

"What about my eyes?" He asked a bit impatiently, reaching up to feel the bandage that covered his eyes. "It's getting quite vexing not being able to see anything."

There was silence for a long moment, "Harry..." She said tentatively... and her tone alone made fear clutch his stomach. It was that very gentle, delicate kind that never conveyed good news. "There's nothing they can do for your eyes. The bandage can be removed, but it won't make a difference. It was just there to keep you from panicking when you woke up."

"What are you saying?" He asked softly. He wasn't daft. He knew exactly what she was implying, but he refused to believe it.

"You're blind, Harry. I'm so sorry." she said achingly.

He shook his head. "No." He muttered in disbelief. He reached up, feeling around a bit desperately for the fastening that was keeping the bandage on his head in place. Hermione tried to reach over and stop him, but he batted her hands away. He struggled into a sitting position, and after a moment gave up looking for a fastening and grabbed the back of the bandage with his one working hand, tugging on it until he managed to slip it over his head. When it was completely off, he pulled the little gauze pads from over his eyes and blinked them open. He could feel his eyes open, feel the eyeballs whole and unblemished beneath the lids, but nothing came to him. Not a single spark of light in the endless darkness that surrounded him. He felt around his eyes with his fingers. There was scarring there. It felt like a slash of seared flesh, from just below and beside his right eye, across the bridge of his nose and ending on the outer edge of his left eyebrow. He couldn't control the sobs that broke from him as the realization crashed over him. He could feel the tears stream down from his useless eyes. He supposed he should be grateful that this simple form of release hadn't been stolen from him as well, but it felt impossible to think past what he'd lost.

"It was a curse." Hermione said gently. "His last one. He cast it just as you cast the killing curse that ended him. By all rights, it should have killed you. I suppose perhaps he simply died before completing the spell so only a fragment of it hit you. Many believed you wouldn't survive... that at best you'd linger on for a few days and simply slip away." She reached up, gently caressing the side of his face, scar and all. "That you survived at all is a _miracle_."

He pulled his face away from her touch, though the movement made his shoulder ache. "How can you call _this_ a miracle? I'm bloody well blind!"

She gave a little, slightly impatient huff. "Plenty of people have lived with blindness, Harry. It's a handicap, but it isn't nearly as tragic as it could have been. Your body is sound, and once that shoulder is done healing you'll be whole again and have the full use of it back. I've known a number of blind people who've led practically normal lives. They came to peace with it and found happiness despite it. You can too."

"Ya, right." Harry muttered with bitter sarcasm.

Hermione let out a breath that was most definitely irritated. "Well, as much as I would love to sit here all day and try to talk some sense into you, I have to get going."

Harry shifted his head over in her direction, trying valiantly to see, though he knew it was pointless. "You're leaving me? With him?! You can't be serious!"

"We're on the verge of a battle, Harry. Being away any longer would be unconscionable. To know that you're awake will do much to lift our spirits, but we need everyone for this one. I will bring others to see you later if I can, but this battle might take some time. Just stay here, don't try to leave the cabin and will you _please_ desist with your disparaging remarks about Draco? I hate to tell you this, but right now his father would much rather get his hands on Draco than you. Your part in this war is over, and your condition eliminates you as a potential threat in his book. The only victory he'd get from killing you would be an emotional blow at best. Draco, on the other hand, he wants to finish making an example of. Lucius had _three days_ to take his anger out on him before he was rescued... he did things to Draco that you can't even imagine!" She said, sounding as if she was tearing up. "Narcissa and Gregory Goyle both died getting him out of his father's clutches. You lost your sight, but he lost _everything_. Do me a favor and think about that before you go being snide to him again."

He barely noticed as she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, then rose. With a pop, she was gone. Harry just lay back down on the bed, resting his forearm over his eyes as he tried valiantly to deal with all of the wildly careening emotions and thoughts in his head. What was he supposed to do now? He curled up, letting the waves of misery and anguish wash over him as he gave in to his despair.

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Harry shifted, then let out a little groan as the movement sent an ache through him. He blinked his eyes open, wondering for a split second if it was nighttime before the memory of what had happened to him came back to him. He let out a little sob of misery, but let it go no further than that. The needs of his body had to be tended to before he could let himself succumb again. His mouth felt dry as dust, his body wrung out from the crying he'd done before he'd slipped into slumber. He sniffed as a scent caught his attention. He shifted laboriously up, then carefully felt over, locating the bedside table, and on that he found a glass. When he hefted it, it felt full, so he brought it over, sniffing it warily. It smelled like pumpkin juice. It was nearly room temperature, so it wasn't freshly poured, but it still smelled good at least. Though a bit reticent to drink something he couldn't see, his thirst prompted him to try it. The first sip proved it to be adequate, so he gulped down the rest.

When he was done, the thought occurred to him that someone must have been there. He'd drank all of the juice that had been in the glass before, and he hadn't heard anyone refilling it while he was awake. He also recalled kicking off the blankets, though when he'd awoken they had been pulled up and neatly tucked around him. There was the vague possibility that there had simply been two glasses of juice on the nightstand to begin with, and he'd pulled the blanket up himself while he slept... but somehow he found that unlikely.

Musings about his temporary roommate aside, his bladder was now demanding his attention quite urgently. He reached over to put the glass back on the bedside table, but misjudged the height. The bottom of the glass hit the side of the table and he lost his grip on it. The glass fell to the ground, shattering.

"Fuck!" Harry growled piteously, slamming his fist against the headboard in frustration. He groaned as he heard a door open and bare footsteps approaching.

"Bloody Hell, Potter!" Draco grumbled tiredly. "It's two bloody o'clock in the morning!"

"I can get it!" Harry grumbled back, "Go back to bed."

Draco snorted. "Ya, and I'd be the one having to fish glass out of your feet for a bloody hour. I think not!"

He heard him walk away, only to return in a moment. He heard the swishing of a broom along with the tinkle of broken glass being swept into a dustpan. As he listend to Draco sweeping, pausing every now and then to look around for more glass, Harry couldn't help but wonder why he didn't simply repair the glass and be done with it. As his thoughts turned to magic, a dark cloud seemed to descend on him as he wondered petulantly if he'd ever be able to do anything magical again. Becoming a wizard is what had changed his life from one of miserable servitude to one where he was respected. Well, most of the time. Some of the time. Well, he'd had power at any rate. It was the first time he'd thought he might have a future. The first thing that made him feel like there was anything worthwhile about him. Was that all over now?

"Go back to bed." Draco said, turning and starting back the way he'd come. The sound of the glass being dumped in a rubbish bin was followed by the broom and dustpan being returned to wherever they were stored with little rustling and clanking sounds. Apparently they shared their spot with other cleaning supplies.

Harry ignored his instructions, pulling the blanket off his legs and shifting them around off the side of the bed.

Draco paused near his door. "What are you doing?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to the loo." Harry muttered, trying to decide if he should wait until Draco was gone before trying to actually rise. He wasn't sure he could face him if he fell on his arse in front of him. Then again, could you really 'face' someone if you couldn't even see them?

Draco sighed and came back over.

Harry tried to pull away when he felt the boy take hold of him, but Draco was much stronger. Draco heaved him to his feet, slipping his arm around him for support.

"I can go to the bloody loo by myself!" Harry protested.

"Oh yeah?" Draco asked with tired sarcasm, "So tell me, where _is_ the loo?"

Harry opened his mouth, but had no answer. He had absolutely no clue. He shut his mouth again and grudgingly let himself be led forward, while trying to keep track of where they went so he wouldn't have to put up with an escort again.

Draco led him out of his room and into the adjacent one. Harry wasn't sure why, but he got the feeling this was the kitchen. Perhaps it was the faint smells of past baking. Just a few paces over he stopped and opened a door. Harry let himself be led in, but then pointedly wrestled out of Draco's grasp.

"Sink is to your right just inside the door, knob for hot water is on the left side, cold on the right." Draco said, taking Harry's good hand and pulling it over, setting it on the cool ceramic edge of the sink. "Hand towel is on the rack right next to that and to the side of the door, toilet tissue right here." He said, moving Harry's hand up to brush the towel, then the roll of tissue before releasing it. "Toilet is right next to the sink." He said, making Harry jump slightly by flushing it. "Rubbish bin is between the two, and the bathtub is over on the other side." he said, leaning over and giving the tub a firm thwack so the tone reverberated through it. "Hot and cold are the same on that. The bath towels, washcloths, extra toilet tissue and such are kept on the shelves in the cupboard across from the sink, the dirty clothes hamper is in there as well below the shelves. Until your shoulder's done mending and you have no problem getting in, and especially _out_ of the bathtub, I expect to be told when you plan on bathing."

Harry shifted away when he felt Draco take a hold of the side of the ill-fitting shorts he was wearing. "Hang on! What do you think you're doing?!"

"These fasten on the sides. Didn't figure you wanted to have to pry them off yourself, especially one handed." Draco said, not waiting for a reply as he unfastened the other side and pulled them off of him.

Harry backed away, trying to cover himself.

Draco let out a little, mildly amused breath. "No point in getting all shy, Potter. Tell me, when's the last time you remember wiping your own arse? I'll fetch you a pair of skivvies. I won't be sorry to see the last of these, believe me!" He said, tossing the 'shorts' into the rubbish bin. "Now either sit down or aim really bloody well. The House elf only comes every other night, so it'll be another day before he'll be tidying up the place."

Harry just stood there, feeling utterly stunned as Draco walked out, the door shutting behind him. A pang from his bladder reminded him of his purpose there and he located the toilet seat, sitting down and making sure he was situated before relieving himself. He wasn't exactly rock steady on his feet yet, and he didn't feel up to trying out his aim right yet. He reached over, finding the rubbish bin and pulling it closer. He touched the thing he'd been wearing. There was no doubt about it... it was a diaper!

Harry blushed with mortification as he shoved the rubbish bin back where it belonged. He knew in a way that something of the sort was inevitable when someone is unconscious for any real amount of time... but the idea still horrified him. And Malfoy had been the one tending to him? Hermione had said they'd been there alone for several weeks, and he imagined he would have a rash or something if Draco had waited for the elf to do the changing every other night. He didn't have a rash that he could feel. He just sat there for a while after he was done, trying to fathom why Draco was doing this.

After a few minutes, the door opened. "Here you go." Draco said as he leaned in, depositing something on the edge of the sink before slipping back out.

Harry reached over and found it. It was the promised pair of skivvies, clean and neatly folded. Harry finished up, flushed, washed his hands and dried them. It was a bit embarrassing when he put the skivvies on backwards the first try. He made a mental note to always feel them for orientation first. He'd always had the light on when dressing before, even if it was just changing his skivvies. He opened the door, then paused for breath, leaning against the door frame. He really was going to have to work at this recovery. Just this little stint had exhausted what little strength he had.

He felt Draco's presence a moment before he felt the arm slip around him. He didn't bother objecting as Draco shifted the bulk of Harry's weight onto himself. Now that he hadn't the strength to pull away from the boy, he confirmed what he'd suspected before. Draco was bare chested like he was, and it made him a bit uneasy. Harry couldn't help but notice how pronounced Draco's ribs felt as their sides brushed. As he moved his hand for a better grip he could also feel some marring of the skin that felt like scars. Draco moved him forward, but instead of taking him back to his bed, he took him across the room a bit before pulling out a chair and maneuvering Harry down into it.

"As long as we're up, I might as well feed you." Draco muttered, walking over a ways further. Harry heard the sound of an ice box being opened and after a moment felt the cool waft of air it released. "Let's see... you probably need protein most right now. There's some ham, tuna, and bangers. Take your pick. If you want something specific that we don't have you can tell me and I'll put it on the list for the house elf, but like I said, it might be a couple of days before the requests can be filled. It brought a fresh lot of food yesterday, but it's a bit late at night to be cooking something up."

"Bangers would be fine." Harry said, his hunger stirring at the thought of food. "And some bread if there's some."

"Ok..." Draco said, fishing out a plate and setting it on the table as he passed.

Harry caught a whiff of the sausages and couldn't help himself. His hand ventured over, finding and seizing one of the fat sausages.

"Um... you know I can heat that up..." Draco said with vague amusement as he spotted Harry devouring the cold sausage.

Harry just shook his head. Truth be told, he'd developed quite a liking for cold bangers in his childhood. The Dursley's hadn't allowed him much meat to eat, saving it all for themselves of course, and bangers were one of the few things he could easily hide and smuggle back to his cupboard for an illicit treat. Mrs. Dursley had always insisted he make up a whole mountain of them at a time, more than even her rotund husband Vernon and her precious, piggish 'little' Dudley could eat in one sitting. It was simply a matter of hiding away one or two while packaging the leftovers up. They never bothered keeping track of the obscene number of sausages that disappeared down their throats, and Harry always smelled of them anyway after doing all of the cooking and having to scrub the dishes, so they never caught on. This moment kind of reminded him of that time in his life. Sitting alone in the dark, eating cold sausages in the middle of the night. This place might be bigger, but he felt just as much a prisoner here as he had in the cupboard under the stairs so long ago. Those covert thefts had brought him more than just desperately needed food for his undernourished body... they'd been a way to take back a tiny little speck of control in a situation where he'd been powerless. He found that oddly reassuring in a way he couldn't quite describe.

He jumped slightly as a plate was set down before him with a soft clink of ceramic on wood.

"You can have one more and two slices of bread, but that's it for now. You've been on a forced liquid diet, so letting you stuff yourself right off the bat would be daft."

Harry sighed, but nodded. He'd love nothing more than to devour a heaping plate full, but he didn't really fancy the thought of throwing it all back up because he'd overdone it. He could hear Draco pouring a glass of some kind of drink and setting it before him. After that, Draco just set the pitcher on the table and settled down in a chair opposite him. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious, wondering if Draco was sitting there staring at him.

When he'd finished his first sausage, he felt around for his glass. Draco shifted forward, using a napkin to wipe the grease from Harry's hand, then placed the glass in his hand. Harry took a breath and sighed it out. He was starting to feel like an invalid. "Why don't you eat something?" Harry asked when he set down his glass.

"Not hungry." Draco muttered.

From the feel of Draco's ribs, he somewhat doubted that, but he held his tongue. He finished up his food, feeling surprisingly full for the amount he'd eaten. Once he set down the napkin, he heard Draco's chair scrape the floor softly as he rose. Not one for milling around and digesting apparently.

Harry let himself be lifted to his feet and supported as he was led back to his bed without objection. He got up on the bed and felt Draco shift him on it a bit more, then pull up the covers for him. He couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer. "Why are you doing this?"

Draco paused, his hands drawing away. "Doing what?"

"Why are you taking care of me?"

"They told me to." He replied in an emotionally devoid voice.

"Since when has Draco Malfoy ever just done what he was told? I haven't even heard you complain once."

"First off, it's just Draco. My mother gave me that name. The name Malfoy is no longer a part of me. My father lost the right to lay claim to me the minute he dragged me into that dungeon. As to why I tend to you... well why not? They told me to. If they told me to dive into the ocean and see if I can reach the bottom, I'd do that too. In fact, I'd probably do it with a bit more enthusiasm, especially considering I can't swim. See, it just doesn't matter anymore. _Nothing_ matters anymore. I'm dead inside. My body just hasn't figure that out yet. When it does, I'll gladly lay down and be wash of this world once and for all. Until then I'm just waiting."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, but apparently a reply wasn't expected. He listened as Draco made his way back to his room, closing his door softly behind him. Harry swallowed a bit thickly. There was something in Draco's voice, something in the evenness and total lack of emotion throughout the entire pronouncement that made Harry realize why Hermione had been so adamant that Draco was no threat to him. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Lucius had broken him... crushed his spirit entirely. The stubborn, self assured boy he'd squabbled with all through his schooling was gone, leaving only this pale shadow of his former self behind. For some unfathomable reason, he found his eyes watering up again. As the hot tears ran down the sides of his face, he felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of mourning for his childhood nemesis... for there was no doubt in his mind that the Draco Malfoy he knew truly was dead.

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Time is hard to judge when you're blind. Well, perhaps he'd pick it up as he grew more accustomed to it, but at the moment it seemed to have lost all meaning for him. Draco made him food when he felt hungry, let him sleep when he was tired. He could make his way to the loo on his own now at least, and the wound on his shoulder had gotten past the point of needing a bandage, though Draco still applied a potion to it periodically. Entertainment was virtually nonexistent. He couldn't read, didn't have a radio or a television to distract him. Life at the little cabin was rather boring overall, but Harry didn't feel the need to complain. Not that there was anyone to complain to even if he felt like it really.

Harry spent most of his time doing next to nothing. Sometimes he'd walk around, feeling the surroundings and trying to memorize everything, other times he'd just sit there and run through his old school lessons in his head, seeing how much he remembered without Hermione's help. About the only _active_ thing he did was (cautiously) exercise a bit now and then, trying to work the stiffness out of his body and get it back to responding like he was accustomed to. Other than that, he was basically just... _existing_.

He'd been through horrific things, seen things no person should have to see, and lost more people than any one person should have to lose. The funny thing was, he rarely thought about it. Ever since that first night after Hermione left, it was like he'd erected some kind of mental barrier between himself and the war. Any time his train of thought went in that direction, it slid smoothly over to different, more pleasant thoughts (or at least less horrific ones). In a way he knew it was happening, but he couldn't make himself take down the barrier. It was quiet here, insulated from the pain... peaceful. He knew the Muggle psychiatrists would probably see this as a huge problem... but he didn't see it as one. If he let himself remember... if he dwelled on it like he had that night... on all that had happened to him, and all that might be happening to the few remaining people he cared about... how could he possibly deal with such atrocities and remain sane? Coping with quiet denial seemed the only logical course.

It was kind of disquieting being around Draco. He was there, but in many ways he wasn't. He replied briefly whenever asked a question, but otherwise rarely spoke. If he slept at all, it wasn't much. He spent most of his time in another room. From the bookshelves and the smell of dust and old parchment, Harry at first assumed it to be some kind of study, but he was hesitant to venture in. It felt like he would be encroaching on Draco's territory. The room seemed more Draco's than even the boy's bedroom did. He certainly spent more time there than he did in his bedroom. Harry thought at first the boy went in there to read, which made sense in such a monotonous place... but when he paused outside the room and listened once, he heard nothing but the sound of the rocking chair he sat in as it slowly rocked back and forth. There was no sound of pages turning or any other indicator that he was doing anything more than sitting there, rocking.

Curiosity eventually got the better of him. Draco appeared to be getting more and more tired, so Harry simply waited until the boy went into his bedroom, then quietly checked at the door. After a while, he heard Draco's breathing coming slow and deep and he knew he'd finally gone to sleep. He made his way into the other room. He hurried a bit in his investigation to begin with, afraid Draco would wake up. The room turned out to be a sort of living room. There was the normal living room type furniture in the middle of the room (a couch, end tables, a coffee table and the like), and the bookcases, as it turned out, only covered about half the walls. It seemed a bit bizarre to Harry that they would have such a room without a television in the center, and he couldn't help but wonder what the point of it was without said center, but he supposed it could just be a sitting room. He'd been expecting something a bit more... well interesting. A study, perhaps with a potions lab at one end. Maybe a strategy room with chalk boards, bookshelves full of defensive and offensive spell books and maps on big tables where they planned their battles. Nothing so grand as that though. Just a simple, ordinary, _Muggle_ room. He found the rocker in the corner and felt around for piles of books or something, anything... but there was nothing nearby. Nothing except a window a few scant feet away in the precise direction that the chair faced. Could he really be just sitting there, staring out a window for hours on end?

He tensed as he heard something. He wasn't quite sure what it'd been. A muffled sound of some sort. He listened, waiting to see if it would repeat. After a minute, he heard it again. It was a little, inarticulate but obviously anguished cry, followed by the sound of thrashing. It stilled again, but he moved in the direction it had come from. The sound came again and he was able to get a better bearing.

Unsurprisingly he supposed, he found himself at Draco's bedroom door. He pressed his ear to the door. The sound of thrashing came again, along with a low, soft whimpering. Harry sighed, thinking he should probably just go back to his own bed. He pushed away from the door and turned to go... then jumped as a shriek of unadulterated pain and fear rang through the air.

Harry couldn't help it. He wrenched open the door.

_"Leave him alone!!"_ Draco screamed, thrashing wildly in his bed.

Harry moved over to the bed, but was unsure how to approach him. From the sound of it, he'd get knocked sprawling if he got anywhere near the boy. "Draco!" He called, "Draco, wake up!"

Draco didn't appear to hear him at all, continuing his thrashing, his erratic movements knocking something off the table on the other side of the bed and sending it shattering across the floor.

Harry took a bracing breath and hurried forward. He got a glancing blow to the cheek when he reached the bed, but it was just Draco's fingers, and there wasn't much strength to it... Draco felt it though. He pulled away with a cry of fear. Harry quickly grabbed a hold of him, not wanting him to roll off the other side of the bed onto whatever had broken there. He managed to snag his waist, hauling Draco back.

Draco struggled, and tried to kick to get away, but it felt like he'd twisted the sheet around his legs too tightly in the course of his thrashing, so he couldn't do much that way.

"Calm down! It's ok! Stop struggling, Draco!" Harry said in the most soothing tone he could muster while struggling with him.

Draco's struggling eased a bit. "Blaise?" he muttered.

Harry wasn't sure who that was... he vaguely remember another seventh year Slytherin boy with that name, but it seemed to calm Draco to think he was this Blaise, so he went with it. "Ya. It's me. Calm down." Harry said soothingly.

Draco let out a sob and twisted around, wrapping his arms around Harry before he even had a chance to react. Harry let Draco's weight bear him down to the bed, thankful that at least the boy hadn't put his weight on Harry's bad shoulder.

"Why did you follow me?" Draco mumbled as he held Harry tight. Hot tears trickled onto Harry's chest where Draco's head lay as the boy went on, sounding almost as if he was muttering to himself. "I told you not to come. Why didn't you listen to me? Why didn't you listen?"

"I... I'm sorry..." Harry replied, unsure what else to say.

"It's ok..." Draco muttered, stroking Harry's hair distractedly. "I won't let them hurt you. We'll get out of this. I promise."

Without warning, Draco shifted his head up, claiming Harry's lips. The kiss was desperate and passionate, taking Harry so by surprise he didn't even have time to react. Once the kiss broke, Draco shifted his head down, resting it on Harry's shoulder.

"I promise..." Draco murmured softly.

Harry just lay there in stunned silence for a long moment, his mind boggling at what had just happened... the implications of Draco's words, and most especially his actions. He really didn't know what to think of this development.

In the end, he gave up his speculation, deciding it would be more prudent to remove himself from this situation before Draco woke completely. At least he seemed to have settled down now. His breathing had evened out, the tension easing from his body. Harry carefully tried to lift the boy's hand from around him, but Draco immediately tensed, drawing him tighter once more.

Harry sighed, deciding he'd have to wait a while until Draco got a bit deeper asleep before attempting his escape. He lay there, wondering how long it would take. It felt rather strange. He'd never had someone sleeping cuddled up to him like this. If it weren't for the fact that it was Draco, it'd be pretty nice really. Maybe he could just pretend it was someone else.

He settled down, trying to decide whom he'd like to have next to him like this. He found himself having a surprisingly hard time thinking of someone. Had he really devoted his attention so exclusive to planning and anticipating that battle with Voldemort that he'd forgotten about being a teenaged boy? Sure, he'd had a crush on Cho, but that's all it had turned out to be... and he couldn't think of a single person he'd honestly desired to be close to since her.

He couldn't help the budding sense of loss within him. He'd been so single-mindedly focused on saving the world that he'd forgotten to live. His eyes teared up as he thought about his pathetic prospects now that his usefulness had fled. He'd been no more than a flash in the frying pan, and now he was just another disabled soldier, one of the doubtless hundreds, if not thousands, who would be left with at most a little thank you plaque and quickly forgotten as people hastened to banish the war from their memories. Even if he did eventually find someone, he'd always wonder if they really loved him or were just in love with the image of Harry Potter, hoping to ride the coattails of his fading fame. Maybe they would even be with him out of no more than pity.

He sighed sadly, shifting his head over and resting his cheek against Draco's forehead. As much as Draco had lost... he couldn't help but envy him a bit. He'd apparently found someone to care about, despite the war. He hadn't turned himself into a monk just because having someone in his life might get in the way. He wondered what had become of Blaise. Was he out there, fighting the war? Or perhaps in some other safe house? Did he visit? Perhaps he'd get to meet him. He was kind of curious as to what kind of person could make Draco Malfoy as passionate as that kiss had felt.

He just lay there after that, feeling Draco's slow, even breaths whisper across his skin as he tried to remember what Blaise looked like.

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Thus ends chapter 1. The story title derives from some old saying, but I've forgotten the exact wording of it. I just liked the concept. When the darkness is so complete, even if it is only a darkness of the soul... any light... any _joy_ is something to be cherished no matter what its source.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - I hardly think what's in this chapter would really qualify as adult content, but better safe than sorry. Warning - vaguely adult content.

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Chapter 2

"What the fuck?!"

Harry woke with a start, feeling himself being shoved roughly. He was too disoriented to figure out what was going on at first. There was a little yelp of pain, followed by more cursing and it came back to him.

"Careful!" He said quickly, "You broke something."

"No shite!" Draco growled sarcastically.

"You ok?"

"I'd be a mite better if I didn't have a four inch piece of bloody lamp in my foot!" He growled back.

"Where's your wand?" Harry asked, quickly searching under the pillows.

"Do you really think I'd be doing everything by bloody hand if I had a bloody wand?" Draco growled back in irritable exasperation. "You had mine last I saw, and the one I was using after that was taken when I was captured."

Harry stopped his searching, stunned. Why hadn't he realized Draco was wandless by now? Why else would he have been using a broom to clean up and warming food on a stove? Harry suddenly felt completely daft. His own wand was of course gone as well. He wasn't sure if it was lost or merely destroyed in his battle against Voldemort, all he knew was that it was gone. That meant they were completely without magic! He found it surprisingly hard to shift his mind back to Muggle solutions, so used to a single flick of a wand solving most of his problems. He heard a frighteningly fast dripping sound and he knew the cut must be bad.

"Should I go get help?" Harry asked worriedly.

Draco sighed irritably. "Don't be bothering them! The bell is only for emergencies. This is just a bloody cut!"

He remembered there being a first aid kit in one of the kitchen cabinets and got off the bed. "Cover the wound and apply pressure. I'll get the medical supplies."

Though he was on the opposite side of the bed from where the lamp had hit, he walked carefully in case bits of it had scattered that far when it broke. It wouldn't do to have them both wounded! He hurried his pace as he entered the kitchen, quickly earning himself what felt like it would be a rather splendid bruise on his hip. He'd been been so preoccupied with locating the kit that he'd angled too far to the right and located the table. He took a couple of steps to the side before moving forward again, running his hand along the backs of the chairs to make sure he didn't do further damage.

It was frustrating trying to figure out where to go when he got to the counter. He knew it was in one of the upper cabinets, but how far along the cabinets was he? It was so hard to remember when his mind was starting to cloud with panic. After a minute he forced himself to calm down and think clearly. He went to the end, then walked down, running his fingers along the cabinets until he reached the seventh one. He opened it and, much to his relief, found the kit. He fumbled with the lock, then reached in, rifling about a bit, but it was all vials and little bottles and such, none of which gave him the slightest clue of what they contained. He found a couple of cylindrical items that were paper wrapped and had some give that he was pretty sure were bandages, but he wanted to be absolutely sure before he took them out of their steril packaging.

In the end, he just closed it back up and took the whole thing with him, making his way as quickly (and carefully!) back to Draco's room as he could. He felt his heart beating faster as he heard the dripping sound once more. It wasn't quite as fast, but it was still very worrisome.

"Here. I think those are bandages on top." He said, climbing up on the bed to get the kit closer to Draco. He pulled out one of the packages in question. "Are these it?"

There was a slight pause, then Draco took the package from him. Harry couldn't help but notice that his hand was wet and shaking. He heard the package being ripped open, then somewhat clumsy movements. After a moment he heard something soft hit the floor.

"What was that?"

The only reply was the sudden soft squeak of the bedsprings as the bed jostled slightly.

"Draco? Draco?!" Harry asked with quickly rising alarm. He reached over and found the boy laying slumped over on his side. "Draco! Wake up!" Harry said desperately, giving his shoulders a shake, but Draco was out cold. He moved his hands up to feel his neck. He found a pulse, but it felt wrong. Harry felt over, locating the wounded foot. Draco had only gotten the bandage around a couple of times before dropping the rest of the roll. Harry tried to ignore how much blood was getting on his hands as he tried to finish the job. The end had gotten soaked in blood from the floor, so Harry just tied it off as best he could when he got to that part, worried it might contain sharp bits from the lamp as well.

Harry fought off tears of frustration. He hadn't felt this helpless since he was a small child! The nagging fear that Draco would die because of something he did or didn't do plagued him. After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and firmed his resolve. He didn't care if Draco had said not to use that bloody bell. This was an emergency in his book!

He made his way back out into the kitchen and over to the cabinet closest to his own bedroom door. Draco had shown him the location of the bell right from the off so he wouldn't go 'mucking about' with it and get people upset at them for calling unnecessarily. He wiped his bloody hands on his thin t-shirt as he approached it. He knew he should wash up, but now wasn't the time. It had taken a bit of time for Hermione to appear that first time, and he didn't know how long it was safe to leave Draco in his current condition. It took him a moment to locate the little hook that held it shut, but then he had it open. He felt a bit nervous as he reached in, feeling about and locating the small bell. It was no bigger than an egg cup, and when he rang it it seemed like he was doing little more than playing with a trifle. He'd half expected to be able to feel some kind of flutter of power or something of the like, but there was nothing. He set it back down and closed the cabinet, latching it securely.

It seemed like forever he paced there, torn between waiting for whatever help might come and going back to check on Draco. He wasn't sure what he could do for him alone though. Other than sit there and fret of course.

Harry spun around as a crack of someone Apparating sounded behind him.

"Harry! What's happened?"

"Neville!" Harry said, filled with relief, both that help had arrived, and that the brave boy was still alive. "It's Draco!"

"What's he done?!" Neville asked, snatching up one of Harry's hands.

"He cut himself and he was bleeding pretty bad. He's conked out. In the bedroom." Harry said, wanting to rush the boy along, but too disoriented by his nervous pacing to know which direction to push him in.

He heard the boy move off swiftly and quickly followed after him.

"Bloody Hell!" Neville muttered as he rounded the bed. "What a mess!"

"How bad is it?" Harry asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Harry." Neville said soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be fine. He just lost a lot of blood."

Harry perched himself on the bed to keep out of the way as Neville healed up Draco's foot, then tidied up. He couldn't help but move his hand over, reassuring himself that Draco's chest was still rising and falling steadily.

"We'll just get some blood replenishing potion down him and he'll be up and about in no time." he said as he finished up. He paused, then asked, "You ok, Harry?"

Harry nodded, then his breath caught in his throat and he shook his head as a sob broke free. "I felt so bloody _useless_, Neville!" Harry sobbed in anguish. "He could have died! And all because I can't take care of a stupid, insignificant _cut!_ I can't even tell the bloody potions apart!"

Neville sighed, circling around the bed to him and reaching out, pulling Harry into a comforting hug. "You're not useless. You're just going to have to make some adjustments. Besides, he's a wizard. He probably wouldn't have died from bloodloss alone."

Harry didn't like the use of the word 'probably', and the obviously forced certainty in Neville's voice when he said it, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"There are lots of spells and charms and such that can help people who can't see." Neville said quickly, obviously trying to change the subject, "I'm sorry we haven't had the time to provide you with such things. Admittedly, not much consideration was given to the matter when you were... well few of us still held any real hope that you'd ever... _need_ such things by the time you finally awoke. I've been trying to look things up, and Hermione has too... it's just we haven't much time right now."

Harry rested his head on Neville's shoulder, trying to pretend the acrid smell of smoke on the boy's robe was just from a nice, friendly camp fire. "I know. I'm sorry I'm being such a bloody crybaby. The war takes priority over baby-sitting me. I know that. I just... I felt so scared and helpless."

"I refuse to believe that _you_ will _ever_ be helpless, Harry." Neville said warmly. "You're the strongest, bravest person I know."

Harry let out a little, half amused breath. "Funny. I could say the same about you, Neville."

Neville didn't reply, but he let out a little, pleased sounding breath, and Harry could feel the boy's cheek growing hot. "Um... Well..." He flustered after a moment. "One of the spells I _have_ been able to learn is just what it sounds like you need. At least for this problem." He said, releasing Harry. He then flicked his wand, muttering a cleansing spell and Harry felt the blood vanish from his hands. "Let me give him a dose of that potion and get him comfortable and I'll show you."

Harry nodded. Anything that would help would be welcome at this point.

He heard Neville shifting Draco about a bit, then he heard the sound of a bottle being opened. After a minute he appeared to be done with that, as he moved down to the end of the bed, pulling up the sheet to cover Draco. "You'll have to give him another dose in a bit. Maybe even two, but be sure to space them well out. I'll leave the bottle on the table here. Just give him a cap full." Harry heard a small bottle click softly as it was set on the bedside table. "I'll stock the fire up a bit while I'm here. He feels a mite cold."

Harry felt around at the end of the bed, but found no blanket. "A blanket would probably be better, don't you think? Do you see a trunk or something around he might have the linens in? He hasn't shown me where those are."

Neville gave a sad sigh as he stacked more wood on the low burning fire. "He wouldn't be able to stand a blanket, Harry."

"Why not?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

Neville was silent for a moment. "He hasn't told you?"

"Draco? He barely talks. Not really the chatting type nowadays. What is it he should have told me?"  
Neville came over and collected up the medical kit. "Come on in the kitchen."

Harry followed along, his curiosity growing.

Neville set the kit down and reopened it. "Draco's father... he... um..." Neville started hesitantly.

"I know he caught him and tortured him. Hermione said that much, and I've noticed how much it's changed him... but what does that have to do with blankets?"

"There is a potion..." Neville began in a soft, somewhat hesitant voice, "The Death Eaters have often been known to use it on their captives. It amplifies their sense of touch so that everything they do them feels many times worse than it has any right to. It's extremely rare that anyone they use it on survives, so it's not known when or even _if_ the potion will ever wear off. There were a few victims from the end of the last war that survived. Well, for a bit at least. One went insane and died in a mental ward. The others all eventually killed themselves. Very little is known about the lasting physical and psychological effects of it, I'm afraid. I don't know if you've noticed, but he wears very little, and can bear no more than a light sheet at most, and only those very finely made sheets of his at that. He can't stand the feel of regular cloth against his skin. Against his scars. We've been sure to stock more than enough wood to keep the fires burning and the whole cabin warm enough. Otherwise he'd probably let himself get sick rather than cover himself properly."

"I had no idea..." Harry said softly. "I knew it was a bit warm in here, but I thought perhaps we were just somewhere a bit warmer... and I did feel some scars when he helped me get around some at first as well, but..." He just shook his head.

Neville gave a sigh. "I'm just glad this was obviously an accident."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, surprised.

"He's tried to hurt himself before. There's been talk. Many don't think he should be left alone in his condition. They think we should move him somewhere he can be watched."

"He's not alone!" Harry said, glowering in his direction.

"I didn't mean..." Neville let out an exasperated breath. "We don't want you alone either, Harry. They're just worried Draco isn't the best person to look after you. Trust me, if we had any other options we would have found you someone better suited. If push comes to shove, we'll just have to put people here while they're healing up... but I've already told four people other than you and Draco about this place, and I really don't want to add to that count if I can help it. Not to mention that would be pretty disruptive for you having different people here all the time..."

"Hold up... _you_ told people about this place?" Harry asked.

"Well... ya... I'm the secret keeper for this cabin." Neville said a bit bashfully.

"Wow. You really are moving up in the ranks, aren't you?" Harry asked, impressed.

Neville sighed. "It's not that impressive. Dumbledore originally cast the charm. I walked in while he was telling someone where this place was, so I just got in on the secret by mistake. When Dumbledore... well, you know... I became one of four secret keepers for this cabin. I'm the only secret keeper now only because the other three are dead." He said, finishing softly.

"Dumbledore rarely did anything by accident, Neville... even if it appeared that way at the time."

Neville didn't reply. Instead, he muttered a spell. "Here." He said when he was done, handing Harry a little bottle. "Touch the lid."

Harry accepted it and touched the lid as requested. The moment his finger made contact with it, he started slightly as a soft, feminine voice began speaking, seemingly from the bottle itself. "Blood replenishing potion. Directions: take one cap full by mouth for every pint of blood lost, allowing at least fifteen minutes between doses and taking no more than six doses in one twenty-four hour period unless directed otherwise by your healer."

"It'll say that whenever you touch the cap." Neville said, sounding pleased that it had worked. "It'll read through the entire label unless you stop touching it or open the bottle. It'll also tell you to stop pouring when the proper dose has been dispensed. With the packages just feel around until you find the spelled spot and they'll do the same."

Harry located the medical kit and ran his fingers over the lids of the bottles, pausing on each only long enough to hear their names, then he withdrew his hand. "Thank you, Neville." He said gratefully. At least now he didn't feel quite so helpless.

"I'm afraid I haven't time to spell the food stores and such, but I'll be sure to spell the future supplies being delivered and I'll see if the spell can be adapted for house elf magic. If so, I'll teach it to the house elf that visits here so he can spell the stuff you already have."

"That would be great. Thanks again."

"I just wish I could do more for you." Neville said a bit morosely.

"Helping to end this war is plenty." Harry said softly.

"I'll do my best." Neville replied. With that, he stepped up and gave him one last hug. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're alright." He said softly before pulling away.

Harry felt a pang of sadness when he heard the boy Apparate away. The visit made him realized what he missed most being here. Human contact. That wasn't putting Draco down, he was helpful and answered questions if asked directly (and he felt like it)... but he might as well be talking to a robot. Draco was so emotionally devoid it just made him sad whenever he tried to force a conversation.

He went over and got out a glass, then dug around in the ice box until he found the pitcher than smelled like pumpkin juice. He filled the glass, using an old trick he'd seen a blind guy use on a movie once, keeping his finger in the cup just below the brim so he felt it right away when the cup was full. He secretly felt just a little, tiny bit proud of himself for remembering that. It wasn't much, but it was progress.

He made his way very carefully into Draco's room. He set the glass on the bedside table (making very sure to use his free hand as a guide so he didn't have a repeat of what happened to him his first night), then sat on the bed beside Draco. He couldn't help but reach over, finding Draco's chest and gently resting his fingers on it for a moment, reassuring himself Draco was still breathing. He then traced his fingers up to the side of Draco's neck to feel his pulse.

With a little shudder, Draco smacked his hand away. "Cut it out!" He muttered groggily.

"You're awake!" Harry breathed in relief.

"And once again, you're on my bed. Ever heard of personal space, Potter?" Draco growled, trying to sit up. He let out a little sound as if he might faint and quickly settled back down.

"Careful. You still need some more blood replenishing potion. You've only had one dose, and you lost a lot of blood." Harry said, quickly locating the bottle.

Draco took the bottle from his hand. "You were dosing me with potions while I was out? How did you even know what was in this bottle?" He asked shrewdly.

"Neville dosed you, but actually while he was here he spelled the rest of the potion bottles in the medical kit to tell me what they contain so now if I need anything else..."

"You rang the bell?" Draco snapped. "I told you not to!"

Harry flinched slightly. "It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter!" Harry said defensively, "You were unconscious and bleeding profusely and I can't even bloody well read! I don't have a wand or anything! What was I supposed to do?!"

"You should have just wrapped it up and waited for me to wake up. Then I could have picked out the right potions! There was no need to involve others!" Draco growled.

"Oh yeah? And what if you _didn't_ wake up?" Harry asked pointedly.

"If I'd have snuffed it you could have just rung the bloody bell then. They would have cleaned up the mess and given you someone else to look after you. You'd have been wash of me! Wouldn't that have been nice? Next time try thinking ahead a bit before you react rashly." Draco said gruffly, shifting up a bit more cautiously.

"You think I would just sit by and wait while you died?" Harry asked, a bit stunned by his nonchalance about the possibility of his own death.

"Why not? You've hated me from the off. What's one less enemy?"

Harry sat there for a moment, a bit stunned. "Is that how you really think I see you?" He asked softly.

"Actually, I don't think you see me at all." Draco muttered before downing a dose of the potion.

Harry reached out, smacking him, from the feel of it scoring a hit on Draco's shoulder. "Prat though you may be," Harry growled irritably, "I'd hardly count you as an enemy. Not by this point at any rate. An enemy wouldn't have taken care of me. He would have waited until they left him alone with me, offed me and left. As for hating you... well, I'll be the first to admit I _used_ to."

"You expect me to believe that we're mates now, just because I changed your nappy and fed you for a bit? Come off it, Potter!" Draco snorted sarcastically.

"I didn't say we were mates. I just said I don't hate you. I don't think I have for quite some time now." Harry replied sincerely.

"Ya. Sure." Draco snorted. Harry felt his hand grabbed and pulled over. Draco placed Harry's fingers on his chest. "Feel that? That felt a lot like hatred when you gave it to me!"

Harry flushed with shame, feeling the long, thin scar on Draco's chest. He didn't have to ask what it was from. He remembered that fight all too well. He remembered lashing out in anger with that spell... the one he'd read in Snape's potions book. He'd cast it without any real clue as to what it might do and with little regard for Draco's life. He remembered casting it... seeing his own power slashing Draco across the face and chest... the blood had spattered everywhere... and he remember all too well the sickening, horrified feeling that assailed him the moment he saw what he'd done. Apparently they hadn't been able to get to the wound on his chest fast enough to keep it from scarring. He pulled his hand away.

"I... I had no idea what that would do. If I'd have had any clue I never would have used it on you. I was just angry and frustrated. I never meant to..." He trailed off. He took a deep, bracing breath then. "Besides, that was before that night... the night Dumbledore died."

"_Wanted_ him blasted off the tower, did you?"

"No!" Harry growled, then he breathed out his irritation. "I was there. I was with Dumbledore on top of that tower. He had me put on my invisibility cloak and remain silent, but I saw everything. I saw the expression on your face when you had him disarmed and helpless. _You_ were the one looking trapped and panicked on that tower, not him. In the end, you would have let him live."

Draco remained silent.

"You'd been trying to find a way to kill him without actually killing him _yourself_ all bloody year... and when it came down to it..."

"I chickened out. Yes, yes, rub it in!" Draco growled, getting a bit unsteadily to his feet. "Don't you have anything better to do than mock me for my inadequacies?"

"I'd hardly call showing decency an inadequacy." Harry replied.

"Ya? Well tell that to my father!" Draco muttered as he walked out into the kitchen, only limping slightly.

Harry got up and followed. He stopped in the doorway, not sure at first which way Draco had gone. After a moment, he heard Draco opening cabinets, getting out pans and such to make breakfast, just as he always did. He seemed to be trying to just forget anything happened. Harry let him carry on for a minute before he could contain his curiosity no longer. "Where is Blaise?" He asked curiously.

The clattering stopped instantly, but he didn't reply right away.

"Um... he's one of your mates from Slytherin, isn't he?" Harry prompted after a minute.

"He was a Slytherin." Draco muttered in agreement.

The use of the past-tense gave Harry a very uneasy feeling he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. "What happened to him?"

"Why do you care?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I just want to know." Harry replied.

Draco was silent for a long moment, then he started talking, the calm in his voice quickly starting to sound forced. "He was taken the same time that I was. His father had died in the battle you were injured in, and my father apparently has no compunctions against tossing out all of the old dark lord's promises to preserve his followers' bloodlines, even after they fall. He killed Blaise, the last remaining Zabini. That's when my mother knew for sure he really was going to kill me in the end. She'd hoped he'd let me live once he'd made enough show of how much he despised me. She took down their anti-Apparition shielding and tried to hold father off while Goyle got me. I saw father cut her down just before Goyle Apparated me away. I was shocked he could manage to Apparate at all... the alarm had gone off the minute the shield went down. One of the other Death Eaters cursed him while he was picking me up. He held it together long enough to Apparate us away to the gates of Hogwarts and carry me onto the grounds before succumbing to the curse." He took a breath. "It was a necrotic curse. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it. I would have given anything to be blind at that moment." He finished softly.

"I'm sorry... about your mother and Goyle... and about Blaise. I know their deaths had to be hard on you." Harry said softy.

"Why are you sorry about Blaise?" Draco muttered. "He's just another prat Slytherin to you, isn't he?"

"Maybe he was to me... but he was a lot more to you."

There was silence for a moment. "What makes you think he was anything to me?" Draco asked guardedly.

"Last night... you had a nightmare. You were screaming. I came in and tried to wake you, but the nightmare had you pretty good. You knocked over the lamp and I had to grab a hold of you to keep you from rolling off the bed onto the shards. When you calmed down, you grabbed a hold of me... you called me Blaise. You told me I shouldn't have followed you. You promised that..."

"I know what I bloody well promised!" Draco snapped, cutting him off, his voice getting a definite pained edge. "You're not going to let this drop until you get the whole sordid story, are you? Well fine then, just remember you asked for it. I knew we weren't going to make it out of there, but he was my best bloody mate and I told him what I had to to make him feel better. Hope, false or not, is all you have left in those dungeons. Unfortunately, those men are experts at stripping that away and leaving nothing but despair. There's really no point to continuing living past that point. I couldn't bear to see them break him... and they never did!" A deep aching had worked into his voice by this point, and Harry was almost certain there were tears in his eyes. "They beat him, raped him, castrated him, then tortured him to death right in front of me... but he never stopped believing me. I could see the unwavering faith in me there in his eyes as his last dying breath left his body. Do you really think I'll ever forget the _lie_ I had to tell him?"

"You must have loved him very much." Harry replied consolingly.

"He was just a friend." Draco muttered with a dismissive hint, going back to what he was doing.

"That kiss certainly didn't feel like it was intended for someone who was 'just a friend'."

There was a sudden clatter, then a pause, followed by Draco's footsteps striding purposely for him. Harry was grabbed by the front of his his t-shirt and pulled forward, then shoved roughly up against the wall. "I've shagged more girls than you've ever even been able to pluck up enough courage to talk to!" He hissed furiously.

"I have no doubt you have." Harry replied soothingly, "Not that that would be difficult since I kind of gave up on the whole relationship thing after the Cho fiasco. I'm not judging you! You can't help who you fall in love with. Look at Snape! You think he really intended to fall for a Muggleborn girl? I was just saying... I just wish I'd taken the time to find someone who would feel about me like you obviously felt about Blaise."

"I see. You're just trying to make me think you're so open minded that I'll break down and confess to being some kind of faggot so you can go ridicule me behind my back and get me thrown into Azkaban once the bloody war is over, are you?" Draco sneered.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Azkaban? What are you talking about?"

"Oh come now, Potter! Don't play daft! They passed that bit of rubbish long before you took your little coma vacation!"

"Passed what?" Harry asked, confused.

"The Societal Decency law. The one that allows for them to imprison anyone who 'degrades the sanctity and decency of the wizarding society by way of acting in deviant manners including public indecency in any fashion, disruption of the sanctity of societal norms and sexual deviation.' It conveniently covers anyone who acts out against the current regime and locks up anyone who's a little 'different', while still letting them rape little girls as young as twelve. I believe it was originally penned to entrap Dumbledore, but the old fairy was too far past his bedroom hopping days for them to prove it."

"Dumbledore was gay?" Harry asked in surprise. After a moment to process that, he shrugged, "I don't see why that matters. About Dumbledore _or_ that law. Once the war is over they'll surely overturn all of those rubbish laws."

"That was one of the first, and they'll have a hard time proving it wasn't a legitimately ratified law, so even if they do eventually remove it it will still be enforced for months at the very least before they get around to abolishing it. Of course Merlin knows how much longer after that it'll take them to sort through the paperwork to determine who needs to be set free."

"That's just ridiculous!" Harry said vehemently, "Still, it's not like I'd ever tell anyone. I'm not like those demented purist freaks."

"Oh yeah?" Draco asked with an edge of amusement.

"Yeah." Harry said firmly.

Draco's hand released Harry's shirt front and snaked up, gripping the back of Harry's neck, pulling him suddenly forward. Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco's lips were on his. Draco's free hand grasped Harry's upper arm, obviously expecting Harry to try to pull away... but Harry found himself surprisingly disinclined to do that. His experience with being kissed was embarrassingly sparse, and Draco was actually quite good at it. After a moment, Draco took it a step further, forcing his tongue into Harry's mouth. The feel of Draco plundering his mouth, his obviously experienced tongue dancing across Harry's own, sent an unexpected shiver through Harry. He felt a heady surge of hormones and found his hands on Draco's waist, pulling him closer.

Draco broke the kiss and shoved him away. He was silent for a moment, then turned and went back over to the stove, going back about making breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Harry blushed and made his way over into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it in mortification. He reached down, feeling the tenting in his trunks that he knew he'd find. He couldn't believe that had gotten a rise out of him! Then again, he'd never really been kissed like that. He knew the Dursley's would probably be horrified at him letting a boy kiss him... but if anything, that made the experience all the more enticing.

He waited, trying hard not to think about that kiss, but the problem refused to go away. He was starting to ache a bit by that point. He finally sighed and decided there was no helping it. Well, a shower was how he usually took care of such 'problems' in the past. He'd been limiting himself to sponge baths to avoid Draco's involvement since he'd first awoken, but he felt stronger now. His arm barely even twinged. Certainly he was past the point of needing supervision.

He stripped and went over to the tub, turning on the water. It was a rather spacious tub, an old fashioned clawfoot type from the feel of it, but he didn't feel like soaking right now. He adjusted the temperature, then got in and pulled the curtains. When he switched it to shower he was almost immediately hit by an initial gush of icy water, but that went away before it could help the situation. He got some soap on his hand, then leaned his head forward, letting the water flow over him as he started soothing away the aches. He tried to find something to think about... some girl he'd fancied to imagine... but his mind kept slipping back to Draco. He'd never really thought about another boy while doing this, but the feel of Draco's lips on his wouldn't stay out of his mind... and that tongue...

Harry bit his bottom lip, trying to stifle his blissful groan of release as he finished. He rested his forehead against the cold stone of the wall until his head stopped spinning, then sighed and shifted back upright, starting to wash himself in earnest. It had been quite a while since he'd done that. He thought about it while he washed up. It had been _quite_ some time come to think of it. While they were on the run he hadn't had any alone time in which to do it, and thinking about it, he hadn't even felt inclined towards it. It was as if his libido had simply shut off. All his waking thoughts were of the war, pain, loss and betrayal. His dreams had been much the same.

He pulled his thoughts away from those dark times, focusing on finishing his first real shower in who knows how long. It took him a minute to figure out which bottles contained what and the like, but in the end he had the pleasure of feeling completely clean for the first time in a long time. He shut off the shower and managed to locate a towel in the closet, but only belatedly realized he hadn't brought fresh clothes in with him.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, then made his way rather self-consciously through the kitchen and quickly into his bedroom. By the time he got back into the kitchen, Draco appeared to have started without him. He could smell the freshly made food and hear Draco sipping from a glass. From the sound of it, he was in his usual spot opposite Harry's chair, and from the slight sounds of parchment being handled, reading something.

Harry took his seat, wondering if he should say anything about what happened before. Then again, what could he say? He was relieved to be spared the decision when Draco shifted, placing the bit of parchment he'd been holding over next to Harry's plate.

"You've gotten a post. House elf popped in and delivered it while you were in the shower." Draco said in his usual, emotionless voice.

Harry fought a blush, refusing to think about what he'd been doing in the shower. Had Draco seen the condition he'd been in? Did he suspect Harry had been having a wank in the shower? If he did, he was amazingly adept at hiding it. He sounded just as bored and uninterested as always. "Well? Aren't you going to read it to me?" Harry asked, trying to shake such thoughts from his head.

"No." Draco replied.

Harry heard something small but heavy rolling across the table top towards him. He reached out, managing to nab it. It felt like a marble. Possibly a metal shot or ball bearing, as he'd never felt a regular marble this heavy. "What's this?" he asked, feeling it.

"It came with the letter. Put it on the parchment."

Puzzled by the odd request, but curious nonetheless, Harry set it on the parchment. It immediately rolled away. He reached over, afraid he'd lose it, but the brush of his fingertip didn't slow it. It felt pulled. When it reached the upper left hand corner of the page it changed course, moving from left to right.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry started as Neville's voice seemed to come from right in front of him... though that would be impossible unless the boy was sitting on the table. He heard the 'marble' roll back to the left side of the parchment, then Neville's voice came again.

"I haven't the time to visit again so soon, but I wanted to get this to you as soon as possible. When I got back and spoke to Hermione about the problems you've been facing, she gave me this to give to you. She's been working on this whenever she could for quite some time now and only just completed it. Just place this charm on a page and it will read what is written on it to you. If the text is hand written, it will read to you in the voice of the writer. It can even translate foreign languages. We hope this will help make your time a bit more bearable. Just remember you're in our thoughts. Take care."

With that, the little charm rolled to a stop. Harry picked it up, feeling it. How could something so tiny be such an amazing gift? He grasped it tightly in his hand, feeling the absence of his friends more acutely than ever. He wish he knew how they were and what was happening to them... but at the same time he feared knowing. The more he knew, the more he'd worry and he knew it. He just wished they would come visit him. Hermione had said they would, but Neville's visit had been the first outside contact they'd had. He was starting to feel like they were on some remote space station or something, cut off from the rest of the world.

After his meal he made his way into the room with the bookcases and waded in. It was a good thing he had something to occupy himself with, as Draco made himself scarce and spoke even less than usual after that. He made Harry's meals and picked up a bit when needed, but other than that, he spent the vast majority of his time in the rocking chair before the window. Somehow Harry doubted he was sleeping even when he did go into his bedroom. Harry wasn't sure if it was insomnia or simply that he was afraid of having more nightmares. He tried not to dwell on it, burying himself in the books. There was something quite soothing about a human voice. Though the charm really only spoke _at_ him since there was no interaction, it still seemed to ease Harry's loneliness a bit.

It had to have been days that passed judging by the number of meals he'd eaten... but nothing seemed to change other than perhaps Draco's footsteps getting slower and dragging a bit more. Other than that, it was as if they were outside of time.

Eventually, a meal time came and went and still Draco stayed in his rocking chair. Harry waited, but after a while realized Draco was probably completely oblivious to the fact that he was starving. He entertained the thought of asking him... but quickly decided that felt rude. Draco rarely seemed to eat, so cooking was almost entirely for Harry's benefit.

So Harry took matters into his own hands. It took him a bit to get oriented, but in no time he had a palatable meal prepared. Getting used to knowing when things were done without visual clues might take some getting used to, but overall he was rather proud of how he managed. He filled a plate and made his way in to where Draco sat.

"You want to sit at the table or eat here?"

"What were you doing mucking about with the stove?" Draco asked, sounding a bit as if he was coming out of deep meditation. "You could have burned yourself!"

Harry let out an irritable breath. "I've been cooking for the bloody Dursleys ever since I was tall enough to see onto the stove. Using a _step stool_ mind you! After playing servant to that lot of snobbish gluttons I think I can manage to slap together a meal, even blind. Now are you going to eat or not?"

"I'm not really hungry." Draco muttered, turning away once more.

"You're little more than a bag of bones. Get up, get in the kitchen and eat or I'll hold you down and bloody well force feed you!" Harry said a bit irritably.

Draco let out a little, half amused sound and got up, taking the plate from Harry. "Fine. I'll try your little concoction. You're a rather _bitchy_ cook. You know that, right?"

Harry just smirked and followed him into the kitchen.

Draco didn't eat a whole lot, but he ate some at least. "I've never had eggs with crispy bits before." He mused aloud in a somewhat teasing voice as he finished up, sitting back with his cup of pumpkin juice.

"Secret recipe." Harry replied with a smirk.

"Apparently." Draco replied. He was silent for a bit, and when he spoke again, the amusement was absent once more. "You really don't need me anymore, do you?"

Harry gave a little snort, "Of course I do! Where else could I find such sparkling conversation?"

Draco let out a slightly amused breath, but otherwise remained silent.

Harry wasn't sure why, but Draco's mood worried him.

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A/N - that's the second chapter. The third might take a bit longer to post since I'm still debating a bit on how I want things to play out. Well? How is it so far?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Warning - _very_ definitely adult content (slash) towards end. Read at your own discretion.

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Chapter 3

Everything was dark, wet and grimy... the mud lay thick on the ground, sucking at Harry's feet as he tried to make his way through the combatants. Curses flew past him through the smokey, acrid smelling air dizzyingly close. Some found their targets, who dropped like rag dolls, others struck counter curses with brilliant flashes of light and resounding crashes, and still more blasted into the mud all around, spattering him with gritty filth that seemed to cling to him. The loud sounds were almost welcome, as they drown out the cries of the wounded and dying that littered the ground around him. He passed body after body that bore a painfully familiar face. His classmates, Order members, and even a professor here and there. The carnage was horrific and yet he carried on. He had a goal, a purpose, and he could not fail.

He came to a stop as a shadowy figure appeared before him. He did nothing more than stand there. Harry pulled out the Elder wand and pointed it at the figure, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to use it. The figure lifted his arm. Harry feared he was about to attack, but then he saw that the hand was wandless. There was nothing pointed at him other than a hand with long, thin fingers. The hand was pale, but with a smoothness that suggested youth, the empty palm facing him in an almost welcoming gesture.

Harry suddenly felt the Elder wand wrenched from his hand and he was shoved aside, falling to the mucky ground. He looked up in shock to see Ron standing there... except he looked different somehow. The good-natured smile and kindness were gone. His gaze was hard and cold.

"If you can't do what has to be done, step aside!" He growled, glaring down at him with a gaze that held both irritation and a definite hint of condescension. Without another word, he shot a killing curse at the figure, who instantly crumpled to the ground. That done, he simply trooped on without another backward glance, a stream of faceless warriors following along behind him. Harry looked over to where the figure had fallen. The hood had fallen away now. The ever present sickly black mud crept up, snuffing the bit of light that seemed to radiate from the platinum blond hair. Harry caught a glimpse of those pale gray eyes staring up sightlessly before they too disappeared beneath the mud. "NO!" Harry screamed in horror. He scrambled over, fighting the mud as it tried to suck him down as well, grabbing for the last bit still visible... that single pale hand.

"Potter!"

Harry lifted his head, trying to look around, but there was nothing but blackness. Had the mud swallowed him?

"Potter! Wake the bloody Hell up!" Draco growled.

Harry came out of it a bit, blushing and releasing his death grip on Draco's hand. "Sorry..." He muttered, still trying to get oriented. He jerked in fright as he heard what sounded like a glacier cracking in half and felt the ground tremble. "What's going on?!" He asked, frightened.

"Magic storm. Come on, we've got to seal this place up." Draco said hurriedly.

"A what?" Harry said, pulling off the blanket that had gotten quite twisted around his ankles.

"Not the time to be sitting there asking for explanations, Potter. Up!" Draco insisted.

Harry jumped a bit as he heard a sudden loud hissing sound. "What's that?!"

"Putting the fire out. We have to close up the chimneys. Grab your sheet and tuck it around the bottom edge of your window. It doesn't seal well."

Harry tugged the sheet out of the mess of blankets and went over. He could feel something tickling his fingertips as he shoved it in the little gap under the window. The crashing and reverberating outside made him very nervous. It sounded a bit like a bad thunder storm, but harder and more violent somehow. The howling of the wind sounded like a banshee's wail. At least he prayed that was the wind.

"Got this one." Draco said, picking up a metal bucket of some kind from the sound of it. "Go grab up some towels from the loo. Dirty ones if possible. If they're damp they'll work better."

Harry nodded and hurried about his task. By the time he emerged with the towels, two of which were still damp from their evening showers, he could hear the little vent above the stove squeaking shut. The water in the sink was also running, filling the bucket back up. "I got the hand towels and washcloths too." He said, carefully straightening the stack so they wouldn't fall.

Draco took one of the damp towels in passing, "I read about these storms. They had them during the last war, and I hear they've started up again since this one heated up. They're caused by residual magic from big battles." He said as he stuffed the towel under the outside door. "It's kind of like in those Muggle wars back when they used muskets and cannons." He continued as he walked past, going over to the sink. "There would be so much smoke from firing them rising up in the air that it seeded the clouds and made it rain. Same basic thing happens with magical battles, except it's stray magic that gets into the clouds. It builds up slowly as the air flow mixes it up and the contrasting magics clash... usually ends up drifting away and not gathering enough strength to lash out until it's hundreds of kilometers from the actual battle. We're half way up a mountain just about at the cloud line, and apparently this is where this particular magic storm decided to break. It can't rise up enough to get over the mountain, so we get dumped on. Lucky us." He grumbled as he shut off the water and heaved the bucket out of the sink. "It's not even quite here yet, but we have minutes at best. We've got to get sealed up before it really hits. The rain is what brings it down the worst."

"How dangerous is it?" Harry asked worriedly, trying not to flinch as another crack of magical thunder shook the cabin hard enough to make the dishes in the cabinets clink together. He hurried after Draco as the boy made his way into the living room.

"Go get under the front door while I get the last fireplace." Draco instructed quickly.

Harry wasn't sure about the orientation of the cabin, but there were only two doors to his knowledge, so he headed for the one just to the left of the rocking chair.

"It's not too terribly dangerous so long as you take proper precautions." Draco replied calmly as the fire hissed out angrily. "The brunt can't penetrate the protective spell guarding this place, but the errant magic can filter in through cracks and do odd things to you if you let it. If you're daft enough to be out in it, it would drive you completely barking, but if you somehow survived you'd probably recover after a while. Of course if you were flying through the clouds themselves on a broom you'd be dead, but hopefully no one's that daft. Once the storm passes, the ambient magic level should return to normal in short order." With a little hiss of pain and a noisy clatter, the last chimney shut.

"You ok?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Fine." Draco muttered somewhat unconvincingly. "You plugged that door up yet?"

"Ya. Is there anywhere else I should be plugging up?" Harry asked worriedly as torrential rain let loose outside, pelting against the cabin as if trying to beat its way through.

Draco came over and grabbed a couple of the remaining towels, then headed off towards the far windows. "If you know of any other places that usually cause a draft, go stuff something in them." Draco said distractedly, apparently checking for leaks (or perhaps simply looking out the window, Harry wasn't sure).

Harry quickly complied, trying to remember where all he'd felt a draft. It was an old cabin, so there were drafts all over really... he just hoped there weren't many bad enough to cause problems. Well, at least they should be safe in here. He couldn't help but wonder if that vivid, disturbing dream had had anything to do with the storm? Well, the sounds of explosions and the like were almost definitely from the sounds of the approaching storm, but... Harry shivered, and it wasn't entirely from the memory. The temperature in the room seemed to be dropping fast and he was only wearing his boxers. He shivered again as he stepped in a little puddle of icy water. Apparently some of the water had slopped out of Draco's bucket when he hauled it in. The water must come from a deep well, because it was absolutely frigid! He paused as he felt a little draft and heard a little whistle of wind blowing past.

"How's it going?" Draco asked after a minute.

"I got the one on that window in the corner. The only other one... um... I don't know how to plug this one." Harry admitted.

"Where is it?"

"Right above me. Is there a skylight or something?" Harry asked, pointing up where he was standing near the entrance to the kitchen. As he tilted his head up, a trickle of icy water fell on him, falling right on his face and into his eyes since he'd had them open out of habit. "Shite!" Harry muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

"Get away from that." Draco ordered firmly. "It's the hatch to the roof. If that's leaking there'll be no plugging it. We'll have to hole up in my room. That's sealed up pretty good."

"Ok." Harry muttered. He was feeling a bit light headed. He shivered as a trickle of water dripped down his bare back.

"Shite! It's dripping! I said to get the Hell away from there!" Draco hissed irritably, coming over and shoving Harry into the kitchen.

Harry just let him lead, then didn't object as Draco used one of the towels to try to dry the water from his back and face. Far from just getting soggy, the small hand towel crackled sharply as if charged with static when Draco tried to get the water out of Harry's hair. Draco let out a little yelp of surprise and tossed it to the ground as it burst into flame.

Harry heard him going to fetch water, but his attention was on the towel. Flames appeared in the absolute blackness that had been his constant companion since that fateful battle. He stared, stunned and fascinated by the brilliant and almost playful dance of bright blue flames.

His eyes shifted over as movement caught his attention. There was a figure standing there. He gazed at it, trying with all his might to make it come into focus. It had been so very long since he'd really seen anything! Slowly, like a Polaroid picture developing, the figure appeared... gray and ghostly at first, but slowly gaining color and definition.

"Mr. Weasley!" Harry said in surprise.

"Harry, my boy..." Arthur said in a faint, far away voice. "I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to see you..." He moved forward, leaving an odd, smoke-like trail behind him as his outline blurred until he came to a stop again, standing so close Harry could see every crease in his weather worn, yet jovial face as it swam back into focus.

The flaming cloth was gone now, or perhaps he just didn't notice it anymore. There was nothing but Arthur Weasley standing before him in the blackness. "I was starting to wonder. Hermione said people would come and visit, but..."

"Sadly, I couldn't come. That you are even seeing me now is nothing short of a miracle. It took a lot of us working together to bring this storm here, so I don't want to waste it." He said, his smile becoming sad. He reached out, brushing his fingers over Harry's cheek. Harry shivered at their icy touch. "I want you to know how much I care about you, Harry. How very proud I am of you."

Harry nodded silently, feeling an unsettled feeling growing in his stomach.

"And I want you to tell Molly something for me."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Me? Why don't you tell her yourself?"

"Because I can't, Harry. Because I'm not afraid of what is before me." That didn't make any sense to Harry, but Arthur forged on without elaborating. "You must tell her that I am sorry. I _did_ listen to her... I _kept_ my promise... but in the end, it didn't matter. There is a man, Perron Vaughn... He is a member of the Order... when the others were gone, he waited for me to run off on the fool's errand he'd been trying to talk me into... and when I didn't, he just came in after me. He betrayed me... just as he has betrayed so many others."

"What do you mean? What did this Perron Vaughn bloke do?" Harry asked, vehemently denying the conclusion his mind was wanting to make.

"He killed me, Harry." Arthur said gently. "He killed me inside one of our safe houses and took my body away, leaving it laying in a field so no one would suspect it was one of our own who'd done it."

Harry's eyes watered up. "No! You're not dead! How can you be dead if I can see you?!"

"Those without the gift of sight are often the only ones who can see beyond what the eyes can show us. Just because a person dies without becoming a ghost doesn't always mean their soul has left cleanly. Some, like me, feel the need to linger..." He said softly, and as he did, other shadowy figures started appearing from the blackness around them. "To put right mistakes they have made in their lives... or simply to watch over their loved ones to make sure they are alright and that they move on with their lives."

The tears streamed down from Harry's eyes. Two of the figures, a man and a woman, stood arm and arm... and though they were no more than vague, human shaped outlines, he somehow felt sure that those were his parents.

"You must tell her, Harry." Arthur pleaded softly, "Tell her so I can rest."

"But I don't want you to leave! I don't want you to be dead!" Harry sobbed.

Arthur reached out, taking Harry into a gentle embrace. His touch sent icy shivers through Harry, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around him, holding on tightly. "Nothing can change what has happened, Harry. I never wanted to leave you... to leave my family... but it happened. When this moment is over, I will just be a silent, unseen soul again, drifting and trapped until my unfinished business is _finished_. There are dozens more just like me, who met their fates at this man's hands. Let us pass on. I want to see my parents again... all of my friends and family members I've lost... I want to see Fred. They're waiting for me."

Harry couldn't stop sobbing, but he nodded. He wouldn't want to be kept from his own parents, his own loved ones. He couldn't bear the thought of doing that to Arthur. "I'll do it. I promise."

He looked up as his skin chilled. Several figures had approached. As he watched, their wispy faces came into better focus and they smiled at him. Hands reached out, brushing him like cool drafts. His mother kissed his cheek as his father ruffled his fingers through his hair. It sent shivers down his spine, but he didn't care. He saw Lupin and Sirius and it felt like his heart would burst.

"We'll wait for you, darling." His mother whispered in his ear. "But take your time. Life is fleeting and should be cherished. We'll gladly wait two hundred years if that is how long you choose to spend in this world. There's no hurry. In death we will have eternity to be together."

Harry nodded numbly. The idea of being together with them made his chest ache. He felt the deep chill within him start to subside and they drew away. As they started to drift off, he looked past them. There was a wispy figure that could have been no one other than Dumbledore... but it didn't approach. It merely nodded and drifted away. Much to his surprise, Harry saw Snape standing there as well, staring at him silently. His arms were folded over his chest as they often were, but his expression was neutral rather than the scowl he customarily wore when looking at Harry. Harry felt an unexpected pang of loss. No matter what else he'd done, Snape had saved him and looked out for him. He didn't deserve the death he'd gotten for his efforts.

Snape's eyes trailed over to watch James and Lily as they drifted past. Lily paused beside him, looking over at him, then reached out her free hand, offering it to him. Snape stared at the hand for a moment, then shifted his gaze over to James. When the man did nothing more than smile at him, Snape slowly reached out and took it. Harry just watched as they drifted away, the three of them walking side by side.

He turned around, but the other vague specters had all gone. All except one that is. There was a boy of about his age standing there, gazing at him intently. He had lovely, almond shaped eyes and an almost delicate bone structure... he looked familiar, but most of him was pale and somewhat indistinct and Harry couldn't quite place him. He thought to ask him who he was, but the boy drifted away like smoke before he could.

Once he was gone, Harry was left in blackness once more. Slowly, he realized that he wasn't standing any longer, though he didn't remember laying down. He shifted and felt sheets soft as butter brush over his back... as well as warm, bare flesh pressed up against him. He shifted his head up, trying to get oriented and figure out what was going on. The body beside him stirred.

"Coming out of it, are you?" Draco asked gently, as if afraid to set him off.

"Out of what?" Harry asked, trying to figure out how he got there.

"You got some of that water on you. Looked like it had you hallucinating pretty good. You were even talking to yourself a bit."

Harry's heart tightened, starting to ache. It hadn't been real. He supposed that was good, because it would mean Mr. Weasley wasn't really dead... but the rest of it... tears crowded his eyes as he remembered his mother's touch. How he wanted that to be real!

"It's getting pretty bloody cold in here. You were just this side of an ice cube and you weren't warming up on your own even covered in blankets, so... umm..." Draco said, obviously a bit embarrassed to be caught voluntarily sharing a bed with him. "But, I mean you're a bit warmer now, so you can move over to that side of the bed now. We don't have enough blankets, or I'd just spend the night in the chair..."

Harry ignored his explanations, shifting closer and settling his head on Draco's shoulder. Being alone is about the last thing Harry wanted right now. He couldn't seem to stop the tears once they started.

Draco seemed a bit uncomfortable with it, but didn't object.

0 - 0 - 0

The storm seemed almost never ending. Harry found himself longing once more for some way to track time. It was frustrating. He'd stopped crying eventually and had slept for a time, but the rest of his time was spent worrying about Draco. He didn't want to stay under the blankets. He'd tolerate it for a while, but then he had to get up.

The air was quite frigid... to the point that Harry was pretty sure their breath had to be condensing in the air when it hit it... and yet Draco, clad only in boxers, and silk ones at that from the feel of them, kept getting out of the bed. He paced around, apparently trying to keep warm through physical activity, but from the chattering of his teeth that he couldn't quite stifle, Harry could tell it wasn't working.

Finally, Harry had had it. Draco's pace had been getting slower, his feet dragging more, and somehow Harry didn't think Draco was just getting tired. "Get back in the bloody bed before you get completely hypothermic, you bloody prat!" He growled impatiently.

"I'm fine." Draco said, the wavering in his voice caused by the barely restrained chattering along with shivering detracting from the believability of his statement quite a bit. "Besides, listen to it. It's letting up. It'll be done within an hour or so, tops."

The storm had quelled a bit, but it didn't sound almost done to Harry. "Even if it does, you won't make it a bloody hour!" Harry hissed irritably. "Stop being such a bloody wuss!"

Draco was silent for a long moment, during which Harry could swear he could actually feel the boy's angry glare. Finally, he relented. "Budge up then." He muttered.

Harry shifted over, but it was a small, single bed without much room for two people. Draco got under the blankets and settled down with his back to Harry. Harry shivered as Draco's arm brushed him while the boy was arranging the blanket. He reached over, feeling Draco's skin. "You're cold as a bloody corpse!"

"Very sensitive analogy during wartime, Potter." Draco muttered, obviously trying hard to quell the somewhat convulsive shudders running through him.

"Oh bottle it!" Harry replied with an exasperated edge. He shifted over, slipping his arm around Draco's waist to draw him nearer as he shifted up, spooning against Draco's back.

"What the bloody Hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco hissed, struggling against Harry's hold on him.

Harry just tightened his hold a bit. "You need to warm up now or you're going to catch your death. You didn't seem to object earlier when I was the one freezing."

"Yes, well that was..." Draco started.

"Oh just put a cork in it! Man up and deal with a bit of irritation for a while. Once you're warm again I'll go back to my side of the bed, such as it is, and you can have your precious bloody space!" Harry snapped, his patience gone.

Draco just fell into an irritable silence, but didn't make any further attempts to escape Harry's proximity.

It wasn't that comfortable for Harry either, but with time, Draco slowly warmed. As his body temperature rose, however, so did the obvious signs of his discomfort. At first it was just a slight, rhythmic tensing in his shoulders. After a few minutes, Harry realized it coincided with his breath. He shifted his head so his breath didn't brush Draco and the tick subsided. Other things were obviously bothering Draco as well... Harry couldn't discern the sources of the irritation, but he could tell by Draco's uneven breath and the minute shifting of his body that this was really starting to get to the boy.

"I'm warm already, now get off!" Draco snapped after a bit.

"You're still pretty cool. Give it a few more minutes." Harry persisted.

Draco yanked as Harry's wrist, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Harry just held tighter. "Don't make me hurt you!" Draco growled angrily.

"I just don't want you to get sick!" Harry protested.

"Sick? How about going nutters?!" Draco snapped back. "Your stomach is gurgling. Did you know that? I do. I can feel every bloody rumble going straight through the small of my back. I can feel your bloody heart beating through your skin, can feel every shift you make, every brush of that bloody sandpaper your boxers are made of, and have you ever heard of bloody moisturizer?! Either you're going to back off right bloody now, or I'm going to break your bloody nose!"

Harry withdrew his arm and shifted away. "Sorry. I was just trying to help." He muttered softly.

Draco didn't reply. He just shifted over until he had to be perched right on the very edge of the bed, as far from Harry as he could get.

There was a rather awkward silence after that. After a few minutes, Draco started shifting uncomfortably. He let out a little pained sound, then sat up, throwing off the blankets.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I'm going to go check the weather. I had my windows sealed up, so I'll have to go out of the room. You stay here." Draco said, heading for the door.

"Wait! It's still raining! Isn't it still dangerous out there?"

"For you, yes. I, on the other hand, can see and avoid any puddles... and know better than to stand under a leaking spot in the roof." He added pointedly, "Stay put."

Harry didn't like it, but he didn't see as he had much choice in the matter. He got the feeling Draco was more in need of fresh air than worried about how the weather was fairing.

He lay there, trying not to worry... but as the minutes dragged on, he started to fret. He hadn't heard much movement for a while. He tried to reassure himself that Draco was probably just peering out the window or something, but the nagging worry wouldn't go away. It was dangerous out there!

He sat up as he heard something. It had sounded like Draco's voice, but it was muffled. It had been a soft cry that kind of sounded pained. "Draco?" He called worriedly.

There was no response.

Harry got up, pulling the top blanket off the bed and draping it around his shoulders, then making his way towards the door. "Draco?" He called again. Still no response. The door was ajar. He wasn't sure if it'd been left that way or if the slight breeze he could feel outside the room had blown it open a bit. He opened it, listening intently to try to hear him. There was a smell to the place... an odd, slightly metallic smell he couldn't quite pin down. It seemed to change as he tried to figure out what it smelled like, becoming slightly musky. Was there water on the floor? Draco's footsteps had been hesitant when he left the room... there could be puddles of water all over the floor for all he knew. He stepped hesitantly out. His heart caught in his chest for a moment as the board beneath his foot creaked. It'd never done that before.

There was a little shuffling sound, then he heard an unmistakable irritable huff. "Get back in the bloody bed, Potter!" Draco called angrily.

"I was just getting worried. You were taking a while..." Harry replied defensively.

"Can't a bloke go to the bloody loo in peace?"

"Oh. Sorry." Harry said, blushing and hurrying back into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Draco returned to the room, shutting the door behind him. "Looks like the place took some damage." Draco said. His voice seemed calmer now at least.

Harry was glad it sounded like the breather had eased the tension that had been building in him. "How bad is it?" he asked when Draco didn't elaborate right away.

"Pretty large branch went through the roof in your room and there's another poking through in the lavatory. Might be part of the same branch really if it was a very large one. Didn't do much damage in the bathroom. Just leaking into the bathtub. Your room's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Nothing they shouldn't be able to fix though I'd imagine. They can mend the shattered windows in the kitchen while they're at it."

"They?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't know how to even begin patching up a roof without magic. As soon as this finishes letting up, I'm ringing the bell." Draco said distractedly as he opened up his wardrobe.

"I thought that was just for emergencies." Harry said, wondering at Draco's sudden eagerness to call for help even though they were both fine. So Harry would have to sleep on the couch for a while. It hardly seemed like a worthy reason to call fighters off of the battle field.

"Well, damage to the structure of the cabin is going to wear at the charm that's hiding us. If we don't get it fixed right quick, we might as well tie bloody ribbons around ourselves and wait for the bloody Death Eaters to come collect their presents." Draco said with a familiar sarcastic tone.

"Ah." Harry said, feeling properly contrite. He heard the creak of the chair as Draco sat in it. "Oh come on! I'll stay on my side."

"I'm fine. I found the robe they gave me. It's a second hand piece of shite with seams that like to grate at you something awful, but inside out and draped over it makes a passable blanket in a pinch." Draco replied, shuffling around a bit as he obviously was trying to situate the garment properly.

Harry just sighed and got up, grabbing off the top blanket once more. He moved over to the chair, reaching out to locate the boy. He was huddled up in a little ball in the chair under what was obviously a summer robe. Harry just draped the blanket over him, tucking it carefully around him, then went back to the bed.

"You're going to get cold." Draco muttered after a minute.

"I'll survive." Harry muttered, curling up under the remaining covers to conserve his body heat.

It was rather miserable, the cold just enough to make him shiver as he lay there. He nodded off here and there, but mostly it was too cold to get comfortable enough. He was half awake when he heard Draco leave the room again and heard the faint tinkling of the bell in the other room. He idly wondered who would come. Would it be Hermione? Neville? Maybe even Ron? He longed to see his best mate again... and yet that disturbing dream he'd had made him less eager to be reunited with him. It left a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about Ron. He couldn't help but remember the look on Ron's face when he glared down at him in that dream. It had made him feel so useless and pathetic.

Harry woke with a jolt as he heard the crack of someone Apparating. He hadn't even realized he'd dozed off again. He held his breath, listening apprehensively.

"I was starting to wonder. It's been nearly an hour since I rang." He heard Draco's voice saying from the kitchen.

"Merlin! What happened here?!"

Harry heard that familiar voice and couldn't help himself. He yanked off the blankets and scrambled to his feet, stumbling across the floor rather faster than was probably wise. "Mrs. Weasley!"

He heard her hurry forward, catching a hold of him and pulling him into a hug. It was a good thing too, as his hand brushed the door frame when he put his arms around her and he had no doubt he would have run straight into it in his haste had she not stepped up. Not that he would have cared if he had. Her arms were around him and it felt like he belonged again. He'd felt like he was floating, separate from the world and cast adrift. The world hadn't seemed real to him anymore. She felt real. He buried his face in the shoulder of her frumpy sweater and breathed in the familiar scent of her. She smelled of sunlight and most especially of her wonderful cooking. There were other smells now though as well. Smells that called to mind dirt and blood. He had a vivid flashback of the battlefield, of his friends and loved ones laying dead all around him, of Ron's glare...

Harry pulled back, forcing a smile and pretending nothing had happened. It was the first time anything like that had happened since he awoke in this place. Sure, he had his dreams at night, and he could imagine people's faces if he tried, but that was the first thing that had come to him unbidden like that, as vivid as if he was seeing it all over again. Sights like that he could do without.

"Are you two alright? What happened?" She asked, trying to brush his hair into place as she spoke, obviously unaware of why he'd pulled away.

"Magic storm. It tore through here last night. Did some damage to the roof." Draco replied calmly, though Harry could tell by the slight tremor in his voice he was shivering once more.

"That can't be!" She said, obviously shocked. "We've been tracking those! The one in this area last night should have passed through the valley a good fifty kilometers east of here and continued on a good hundred or so kilometers beyond that before breaking! You shouldn't have done more than hear some distant thunder at best!"

"Well, it didn't. It dropped on us instead." Draco replied. "We holed up in my room. Those sealing charms you put on it came in handy."

Harry couldn't stop the shudder that went through him when a breeze hit him. He hadn't even brought a blanket with him.

"You must be freezing!" She said, immediately spotting this.

Without another word, she had them shuffled back into Draco's room. It was a good thing Draco hadn't tried to reopen the chimney himself, because she had to use a purging charm on it to get a buildup of magically charged rainwater out of it first. Apparently the seals in these chimneys were magical, because Harry didn't imagine Muggle ones would have held back as much water as he heard pouring out of that one. After that, she had a fire going in short order and both Harry and Draco huddled before it in their blankets without argument while she went about trying to put the place back in order.

She was back before Harry had even gotten completely thawed out.

"Well, I think I've done all I could for now. The windows are repaired, the excess water dried up, though it did awful things to the woodwork. Once it's dried out good we'll see if we can do more for it. The fire is going in the living room and the place should be warmed back up soon. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do right now for the roof. I've had to seal off your bedroom, Harry dear. I'm sorry about that, but it's the only way to reinforce the Fidelius charm until that's fixed. I'll have the boys come and try to fix it when they're able. It'll probably be a couple of days though. Hopefully they'll be able to spot the limb and levitate it out or banish it from the porch so they can stay inside the charm's boundaries."

"There's a porch?" Harry broke in in surprise.

"Why yes. You didn't know that?" She asked in surprising. "It's a quite large one. Wraps around three sides of the cabin. Most of it has a roof over it, but the bit towards the end on the far side doesn't, so hopefully that will give them a vantage point to work from. As long as we stay on the porch we are within the reach of the charm. Of course I wouldn't suggest it until it dries up out there."

Harry was a bit stunned to know he could go outside. Well, in a limited sense, but still. He'd been caged up inside for so long the idea was rather enticing. Thinking about it, it was obvious why Draco never went out, considering his clothing issues and the time of year, but Harry thought he just might venture out. Once it was dry of course.

"What about the loo?" Draco asked.

"Well, I must warn you there's a bit of that water built up in bathtub."

"Ya, that bloody plug is always falling in there and blocking it up. It really needs a chain so we can hook it over the faucet or something, but that seemed rather frivolous before." Draco commented.

"I'll see about that... but for now it's nearly a third of the way full of that rainwater, and it's too dangerous to try to banish it when there's that much in one place. Puddles are one thing but..." She trailed off, shaking her head from the sound of her hair brushing her robe, "I'm afraid you won't have the use of the bathtub until the roof is fixed, but since you shouldn't use any of the water here for a couple of days that shouldn't be an issue anyway. I conjured some jugs of water and left them on the counter in the kitchen. It should lose strength with time and I can see about having a protective glove of some sort made to reach the plug. Maybe with luck it will eat through the plug and drain on its own. For now, just avoid coming into contact with the water. The porcelain seems more than capable of dealing with it, and we can finish taking care of it when we finish with the roof."

"You can't seriously expect us to go without bathing for _days!"_ Draco said as if the mere thought was ludicrous.

Harry tried hard not to smirk. Draco bathed a lot. At least daily, if not more often. He wasn't sure if that was an issue with his overly sensitive skin, or just a long standing hygiene regiment. He always had seemed almost overly meticulous about his appearance. Not that there was anyone here to impress, but some people seemed to draw comfort from routine.

"Well, perhaps this will help. I almost forgot!" She replied.

Harry heard her shuffling around, obviously looking for something in her robe, then she took his hand and placed something in it. Harry immediately recognized the heft and feel of a wand in his hands as a tingle of power skittered through him. He examined it intently with his fingers. It felt like his old, beloved wand magically, but the shape wasn't quite right. The grip was unworn and narrower, the length a good half inch or so shorter. "Where did you get this? What kind is it?"

"It's just like your other one, dear. It has one of Fawkes' feathers and all. Apparently Professor Dumbledore had it made just before he died. He knew the advantage having that particular type of wand would have in the battle you faced, and many witches and wizards carry a back up wand in times like this... he just never got the chance to give it to you. Neville went to his office at Hogwarts and talked to Dumbledore's portait. He was hoping to find out if Dumbledore had any Phoenix feathers left about to make a wand for you out of, but as it turns out, Dumbledore beat him to the punch. He told him where to look, and it was right there, waiting to be delivered to you."

His heart sang to feel a powerful wand in his hand once more... but then his smile faded away. "But I can't see. I can't work magic if I can't see." he muttered morosely.

"Nonsense!" She said immediately. "It may be a bit harder to learn new spells and you have to be a fair bit more careful about being sure you're aiming properly, but otherwise you're just as capable of doing magic as the next fellow. You may not be able to bathe for a few days, but you can get yourselves just as clean using hygiene spells. I know they taught you those in school already."

Harry nodded. Those had been first year spells, though most people still preferred regular bathing or showering. He clasped his hands around the wand and held it to him. "Thank you." He said sincerely.

"There's never any need to thank me, Harry dear." She said softly, taking his face between her hands fondly, letting out a sad sigh. "It hasn't been easy, especially since..." Her throat tightened up and she fell silent for a moment before continuing on. "My family has lost so much..."

The air was uneasy as the silence seemed to hang there after that. Harry couldn't help but feel that the pain in her voice was too fresh to be referring just to Fred. Try as he might, he couldn't help the little feeling of dread in his stomach... a feeling that his 'hallucination' had some real meaning to it. "Can... can I see Mr. Weasley?" He asked before he could stop himself.

There was a bit of a pause, then she said, "No, Harry." in a business-like tone, "I'm afraid that won't be possible. We're all very busy. Sparing the boys for a hour or so just to fix the roof will be hard enough..."

"Why are you lying?" Draco cut in.

Mrs. Weasley sputtered a bit with obvious shock at the accusation.

"Draco!" Harry hissed reproachfully.

"You didn't see her face when you asked her!" Draco shot back. "He's dead, isn't he?" He asked Mrs. Weasley.

Harry's heart seemed to tighten in his chest as he waited for her answer. Why wasn't she denying it immediately? As the moment drew out, the despair within him swelled quickly.

She took a deep breath, then sighed it out. "Yes." She breathed softly.

Tears crowded Harry's eyes.

"We've been together so long I just... I can't comprehend life without him." She said, the ache in her voice painful to hear, "It's been about two weeks now. They took him from me during the battle that happened shortly after Hermione returned with the news that you'd awoken. He was so happy when he heard. Your uncertain fate had hung over him like a shadow... to see him smile again... you lifted such a burden from him." She reached over, stroking Harry's cheek lovingly, brushing away his tears. Then her hand dropped and she sighed achingly. "He shouldn't have even been there. He knew he'd been targeted. He was supposed to just be staying at the safe house and coordinating our efforts from there. He promised me he would."

Harry felt suddenly cold inside and a touch dizzy. "In a field..." he muttered incredulously.

"What?" She asked.

"They found his body laying in a field, didn't they?"

She was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Yes. How did you know that?"

"He told me. I thought it was just a hallucination... last night I got some of the rain water on me... and I saw him. He spoke to me. This may all be rubbish... but I _promised_ him I would give you a message... he said his soul couldn't rest until you knew... and I'll never forgive myself if I don't tell you and it turned out to be real."

"What did he say?" She asked in a soft, unreadable voice.

"He said he kept his promise to you. He was killed in the safe house, then taken and left in a field so you wouldn't know it was a member of the Order who'd done it. If it was real, that's why the storm was off track. He said he and others like him worked together to shift the storm so it would hit here... so they could get a message to you through me."

"Did he say who it was, this man who killed him?" She asked in that same unreadable voice.

Harry hesitated, suddenly realizing the possible consequences of declaring a man a traitor on the merits of a dream alone.

"Was it Perron Vaughn?" Draco chimed in, "You muttered something about him when you were out of it. I always thought that bloke was dodgy."

"Perron?" Mrs. Weasley said, obviously shocked.

"That _is_ who he said, but this might have just been some dream. I don't want to falsely accuse an innocent man just because of a dream!" Harry said quickly.

Molly reached over, stroking his cheek once more, "I've heard a lot about your mother, Harry dear." She said softly, "Lily was a powerful witch... and she had a special gift. One not many people knew about. She had prophetic dreams. The meanings weren't always immediately apparent, but it saved her more than once... and it saved you. You've already shown many signs of having inherited her talent... Arthur always did say he was sure you had it. Even if you only got a touch of it... blindness may detract from life in many ways, but it would also make someone with such talent a natural conduit. You wouldn't be too distracted by the 'real world' to see beyond it. If he would have needed to send a message to me from beyond... I do believe he would have chosen you to receive it. Such a storm would have made you even more sensitive, and coming into direct contact with the rainwater... Yes, sometimes a dream is just a dream, even for people with the gift... but you knew things you could not have known, and named a man who I know full well you never met, and I truly doubt you would have even heard about. This definitely merits looking into. Don't worry, we have ways of testing loyalty. We'll know soon enough if he's the one who's been sabotaging our efforts."

Harry just nodded mutely.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry dear." She sighed, drawing him closer and kissing his forehead. "You've been so brave through this all."

Harry certainly didn't _feel_ brave. He was just sitting here doing nothing while others were fighting and dying. He couldn't believe Arthur was really gone. The reality of it was starting to sink in, and it made him ache to his core. He would have given anything for that to have just been a dream... for Arthur to still be alive and well.

She released him and shifted a bit, obviously looking over at Draco. "Draco, dear... I'm sorry, but we still haven't been able to find a match for your wand. It was a rather rare type, and wands have been in short supply, what with Ollivander's being burnt to the ground and..."

"That's fine." Draco muttered. "I told you before you needn't bother yourself looking."

She sighed, then turned her attention back to Harry, "I'm terribly sorry, but I really need to be going, Harry dear. The boys should be along perhaps tomorrow evening, the next morning at the latest." She said regretfully.

Harry just nodded, then subtly held his breath as she hugged him tightly once more and kissed his cheek. When she released him, he heard her move over and cloth brushing.

"Is there anything you need? Anything at all I can get you?" She asked softly, though it was obvious she was addressing Draco now.

"I'm fine." He muttered.

From the slightly muffled sound of his voice and their proximity, Harry was pretty sure Mrs. Weasley was hugging Draco. That quite surprised him. She'd never seemed to care much for him when they'd crossed paths before.

"Tell that house elf of yours if you think of anything."

"Sure." He replied somewhat less than convincingly.

She sighed, and from the sound of it, gave him a kiss on the cheek as well before pulling away. "I must be off." She said sadly as she stepped away. "Take care. The both of you."

Harry just nodded and after a moment there was a sharp clap and he knew she was gone. Arthur's death seemed to fill his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to push it behind that comfortable barrier of his. Arthur had been like a father to him. Why did it seem that every man who showed him kindness ended up dead?! It felt as if he was cursed.

"You hungry?" Draco asked softly.

Harry just shook his head.

"I doubt you got much sleep last night. Use my bed for now. I'm not really tired."

Harry nodded numbly, going back to Draco's bed. He flopped down on it and lay there for a time, but his brain just refused to shut down. He kept remembering Arthur... how kind he'd been to him and how he seemed to just immediately accept Harry as one of his own. He remembered the fear and pain he'd felt the first time he'd thought Arthur had been killed, when he'd seen a vision of him being attacked by a huge snake. There would be no news that he was alive to bring joy back into his heart this time. He was well and truly gone. He couldn't imagine never seeing that warm, jovial face again, never hearing his voice. He felt sick and aching and numb all at the same time. It felt like something was building inside him. He just wanted to lash out or scream at the top of his lungs or... or... _something!_ Anything that would make the feeling inside him go away. It was filling him, making it hard to breath. He wanted to break down and sob like a child, but the tears wouldn't come for some reason. So the frustration, pain and tension just kept building, winding tight inside him.

Eventually he gave up on sleeping. He was too pent up. He had to get up and do something. He paced the room for a bit, but that seemed to accomplish nothing. Giving up on that, he made his way into the living room. He stopped under the hatch to the roof, tilting his head upward, but the wind wasn't even whistling through it anymore.

"She patched it." Draco said, his voice sounding rather tired. "Besides, if what you saw is true, he's gone now."

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

"You cared about him."

It wasn't really a question, but Harry nodded again.

"You going to be ok?"

"I don't know." Harry breathed, unable to fight the tears as they finally broke free, tracing their way down his face. He took a deep breath. "I just want to make it go away. All this pain and all of my memories. It's just too much. I just want it to stop!"

"I don't know what to tell you." Draco replied softly. "If I knew how to do all that, don't you think I would have done it to myself by now?"

Harry went over to the rocker in which he sat, ignoring the new creaks the floorboards had acquired. He held out his wand, offering it to Draco hilt first. "You could Obliviate me."

Draco snorted. "Yeah. Like they would believe that you asked me to." He said, getting up. "But I just may know a temporary fix for you at least."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling a bit desperate for anything that would help.

"Bring that wand over here." Draco said, taking a hold of Harry's elbow and leading him across the room. He brought him to a stop, then placed Harry's hand on a lock. "Unlock this."

Harry didn't even bother asking what he was unlocking. "Alohamora!"

"Finally!" Draco sighed as he removed the lock and opened the cabinet. "Here you go. Temporary oblivion in a bottle." Draco said, yanking out a cork and handing Harry a large bottle. "There's glasses as well if you want to bother with them. Personally, I don't require such niceties."

Harry sniffed his bottle as Draco uncorked another and took a healthy slug from it. The fumes alone made his eyes water. It was obviously rather high proof alcohol. Not a perfect solution, but it was better than nothing. Harry took a slug from the bottle... then promptly coughed half of it back out.

"Don't worry, Potter. It mellows. Keep at it." Draco said with more enthusiasm in his voice than Harry had heard the whole time they'd been in this cabin. Draco then went over, plunking down on the couch and taking another swig.

Harry went over, sitting beside him and setting his wand on the coffee table before them. "I've never had anything stronger than butterbeer." He admitted, taking a much more cautious taste from his bottle.

"Well, this is a far cry from butterbeer."

Harry tried a full swig and managed to keep it down. It burned wickedly, but in a not entirely unpleasant way. He gave it a moment to settle in his stomach, then had another go. Draco was already far ahead of him from the sound of it. In fact, he seemed to be drinking far more and far faster than seemed wise given his currently somewhat diminished body weight and the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since the few scraps he nibbled at dinner the night before. Still... the more Harry drank, the less things like that bothered him.

By the time his bottle was down to about half, he wouldn't have cared if the bloody cabin was on fire. He set the bottle on the coffee table before him, draping himself back in the lovely, over-stuffed couch. The blissful euphoria of a thick alcohol haze surrounded him, leaving him thoughtlessly happy and content. Even Draco had loosened up considerably. Harry listened to him as he started singing a little song about some girl from across the tracks. The words were a bit slurred, and he had to keep pausing, obviously trying to remember how the song went, but his voice lent well to the song... not to mention that just about anything was high entertainment to Harry in his current condition. It was a sad song, the writer of which was lamenting the fact that his parents were keeping him separated from his love because they felt she was unworthy.

Harry draped his arm over Draco's shoulders in a friendly fashion and Draco slumped over against him a bit, getting into the song. His voice started growing achingly sad as it slowed, obviously nearing the end.

"Patches, oh what will I do? I swear, I'll always love you..." He drawled softly.

Harry cut him off with a kiss. He just couldn't seem to help himself. Draco moaned softly into his mouth, pressing closer. When the kiss broke, there was a rather awkward pause. Harry was normally the last one to even think of initiating anything, but the liquid courage racing through his bloodstream seemed to be muting that little voice in his head that coached him on propriety quite nicely. He reached up, finding Draco's face and gently starting to explore it with his fingertips.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked softly.

"Just looking at you. It's been a while since I've seen you." Harry murmured, concentrating on his sense of touch. Though he'd never had occasion to touch Draco's face before, it felt familiar. The features that slid under his fingertips brought the image of Draco's face vividly into his mind. There were new lines to it now though. Not too terrible, but there were definitely lines there that didn't match his memory. There was a thick scar coming out of the outside corner of his right eye and extending towards his temple for a good two inches or so. As his fingers drifted lower he felt thinner, lighter scars flicked across his cheeks here and there, but overall the damage didn't seem that bad. His nose was still as perfect and aristocratic as ever, his ears intact and unmarred. His fingers drifted down Draco's neck. There were more scars there, but smaller, as if knives had been pressed to his throat many times. There was one scar several inches long over his jugular, but it was thin and he could only hope the cut had been shallow when it was created. As his finger traced it Draco shuddered.

"Does it hurt when I touch you?" Harry asked worriedly, pulling his hands away a bit.

"No." Draco replied in a half whisper. He shifted and Harry heard him set his bottle on the coffee table as well, then Draco took Harry's hands and place them back on him.

Taking that as permission enough, Harry returned to his exploration, making sure to keep his touch feather light. His fingers trailed down Draco's chest, feeling scars of varying lengths and thicknesses, most feeling like they's been caused by a knife, their edges clean cut... but there were a few other ones he wasn't sure the cause of. There was an almost welt-like scar nearly half an inch thick with wavering edges that slashed across more than half of his chest. The tapered end was just past his sternum on his right side, quickly widening as it arched up slightly, passing just beneath his left nipple and actually widening a bit more past that. Draco shifted his arm down as Harry was starting to feel where it trailed down his side. For a moment he thought Draco wanted him to stop, but then Draco's hand shifted his over onto the arm and Harry realized the scar continued across the arm, though it became erratic there.

"Vipertooth venom." Draco said softly.

Harry felt the scarred arm, realizing the scarring did indeed seem to be caused by a liquid. It appeared to have been sprayed across Draco's chest in a thin jet, but when it hit his arm it spattered, leaving a larger, more diffused bit of scarring on the arm, the outlying bits feeling like where drops had fallen. He traced back a bit, slipping his fingers down Draco's side once more and finding that it seemed more like a drip pattern there, the excess venom having flowed down his side. His fingers drifted along the scar as he imagined what it would have been like. Vipertooth venom was said to be excruciating in a way that put the Cruciatus curse to shame even with regular senses. If it was injected with a bite it was unadulterated Hell, its only redeeming quality being the swiftness with which it put you out of your misery. To have it put on your skin though? It would be liquid agony without the benefit of the release of death. And to have that sensation multiplied by another potion?! He wasn't sure how Draco had withstood the pain. He traced back along, letting his finger drift up a bit. It passed no more than a centimeter below the nipple. Just a minute variation in the angle and he probably would have lost that as well. As his finger brushed over the nipple Draco let out a deep, shuddering breath.

Harry pulled his hand away quickly. "Sorry."

Draco was silent for a moment and Harry could hear nothing more than the boy's rather faster than normal breathing. He hadn't even been paying attention to that, and now that he noted it, he grew concerned. "Are you _sure_ I'm not hurting you?"

"Do you want to feel the worst one?" Draco asked softly, apparently ignoring the question.

Harry felt a bit reluctant, but nodded. His reluctance grew as he heard Draco rise. There was a little bit of somewhat unsteady shifting around, then Draco knelt on the couch. He reached over and took Harry's hand, placing it on his lower stomach. He felt the tail end of a scar there.

"He got distracted when the alarm went off. If mother had been a minute later, or father had used a simple severing charm instead of insisting on using the more painful, Muggle method, I'd have been unmanned..." Draco said softly.

Harry knew he should just take his word for it, but his morbid curiosity wouldn't let it pass. His finger traced down, following the scar as it trailed through Draco's pubic hairs. He hesitated slightly as he reached the base of his hampton, where the scar thickened. He took a deep breath, then continued on. The scar ran around, making it obvious his father had gotten nearly half way through before being interrupted. The edges weren't completely smooth either. It felt like he'd sawed at it a bit. Apparently Draco still had the full functioning of the organ though. In fact, it felt quite rigid at the moment.

Harry's fingers lingered for a moment as he fought his curiosity. In the end, he lost the battle. It was right there after all, and surely Draco would stop him if he wanted to. Harry let his fingers venture a bit further. During their rivalry at school, he always fancied that perhaps Draco simply had a tiny hampton, and that how much he showed off and bullied was just to cover this fact. He'd been wrong. It was impressive. Well, the only other one he'd ever touched was his own, but he'd always thought of his as well above average from the statistics he'd seen, and Draco's was bigger still, and rather thicker.

Draco shuddered, then leaned closer and pushed him over onto his back. Harry released him in surprise as he felt his head coming up against the soft arm of the couch. Suddenly Draco's lips claimed Harry's once more. The passion and hunger in those lips made Harry's head spin in a surprisingly pleasant way. Harry felt himself being shifted around a bit until he was properly lengthwise on the couch. He let his hands explore a bit more as they kissed, feeling the many scars that covered Draco's back. The scarring there was much worse than on his chest. It was like a spider web of scars crisscrossing his back. Harry suspected those had more to do with whips, but found such speculations slipping from his mind. He'd been so curious as to what Draco looked like now... and he knew the scars might well _look_ frightening and terrible... but they _felt_ strangely fascinating.

Harry shuddered as Draco settled on top of him, his hands exploring Harry's skin in an entirely unchaste manner. He groaned blissfully as Draco shifted down a bit, kissing and nipping at his neck. How long had he wanted this? To feel someone pressed so intimately up against him, their skin hot and their lips impassioned. He ached for it to his core... and he found he really didn't care about gender right now. All he wanted was to be desired... and most especially to be _touched_.

When Draco shifted down more and started teasing one of his nipples, Harry found himself grinding his hips up against Draco's stomach shamelessly. Draco groaned deeply, then shifted up. Harry was half afraid he'd leave like he had after they'd kissed, but that worry was quickly quelled as Draco took a hold of Harry's boxers and pulled them off. Harry felt a little exposed, laying there naked in the living room... but Draco quickly distracted him. Harry didn't even bother trying to hold back the groan that escaped him when Draco wrapped his hand around him and started stroking him. This was all so new... amazing and frightening all at the same time. Then Draco drifted down a bit further. Harry couldn't imagine anything more exquisite than the feel of Draco's mouth as he engulfed him. He found himself twining his fingers in the hair at the nape of Draco's neck and holding as he thrust up. Draco never bulked at the rough treatment.

It seemed only moments before Harry felt a blinding surge of pleasure, crying out with abandon as he peaked. He was panting a bit desperately, but he managed to release his grip on Draco's hair as the euphoria slowly ebbed. He shuddered with a little aftershock as Draco released him, but overall a kind of deep contentedness had come over him.

He felt Draco shifting him around a bit, but barely paid it any attention. His mind registered its first hints of curiosity over what the boy was doing when he felt his hips lifted and one of the large throw pillows was wedged under him. He stirred from his contented lethargy, finding himself on his stomach and realizing what Draco intended to do.

"Um... I don't know..." He said, starting to shift up, apprehension fluttering to life in his stomach. He knew it was daft not to have seen this coming.

Draco pushed him back down with a hand on the small of his back. "Just relax. I know what I'm doing." He murmured a bit distractedly.

"Draco, wait! I'm not sure I'm ready for this..." Harry said quickly. His breath doubled fearfully as he felt Draco shift up to him. He tried to relax, but he was so apprehensive it was difficult. He let out a pained gasp as Draco started trying to work his way in. He couldn't help but remember fearfully how big Draco was. Would that thing even _fit?_

"Come on... relax! Ah... there we go..." Draco sighed, "Bloody Hell... you really _haven't_ gotten your arse fucked before, have you?" He muttered blissfully as he patiently worked himself deeper, making Harry cry out.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. Having his body invaded like this felt painful and a bit frightening. Then again, he supposed Draco had given him pleasure and he kind of owed him... the alcohol running through his veins was making coherent thought rather difficult right now. He clinched his eyes shut and gave up, just waiting for it to be over.

"Almost there..." Draco muttered.

Harry hoped he meant he was almost done, but his true meaning became apparent as Draco shifted up a bit more and thrust in hard, finally burying himself to the hilt. Harry cried out with surprise... and something else... Draco thrust again and he cried out again as the amazing feeling shot through him once more.

"There it is..." Draco murmured as he settled down on top of him, thrusting hard and deep.

Harry couldn't seem to control the sounds coming out of his mouth. Draco was sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body unlike anything he'd ever even imagined. He grabbed a hold of the cushion reflexively, clutching it like a life preserver as the world seemed to quake around him. He found himself anticipating each new thrust... but with desire now rather than fear. Draco was driving into him fast, and yet he found himself wanting to push back to hurry the pace, but Draco had his body pinned down rather neatly. Their hot skin quickly dampened with sweat, getting slick. Draco compensated by slipping his arms around under Harry and getting a good grip on him.

Harry felt an inexplicable bond forming between them that went far beyond the purely physical joining of their bodies. They were connected together by desire and need... a need for something beyond themselves... a human connection... and emotional anchor in their shattered lives. Harry felt it and gave in to it without reserve, revelling in a feeling of closeness he'd never felt before.

Draco pressed his cheek to the back of Harry's neck, resting it there as he took him. Harry shivered and moaned as the feel of Draco's quick breath teased his skin. The sound of the little grunts and groans he made when he thrust sent unexpected desire through Harry. It had to be about the most erotic sound he had ever heard.

If Harry was afraid Draco would finish too soon, he needn't have worried. Though he didn't want it to end, after a while he began wondering how long Draco could possibly keep this up. The pleasure racing through Harry made his head swim and repeatedly drove him to the verge of unconsciousness. In fact, he might have passed out for a moment a time or two, but he wasn't entirely sure. It was both saddening and a relief when Draco finally started speeding up a bit more.

Draco suddenly drove into him hard and tensed, his cry echoing off the walls, sounding almost pained. He gave Harry a couple more rather convulsive thrusts as he finished, then held himself there tensely for a long moment before slowly seeming to sink down, the tension easing from his body.

Harry panted dazedly, still feeling the little aftershocks fluttering through Draco's body as he lay atop him. After a minute, Harry realized how hard he'd been gripping the cushion and released it. The movement was barely anything, but Draco immediately let out a pained breath, shuddering hard.

"Don't. Don't move." Draco whispered tensely.

Harry hadn't really planned to move much, so it was easy to comply. For the first time in his life, he could say with complete honesty that there was no place on earth he'd rather be at that moment than exactly where he was. The couch was comfortable and Draco's body had him feeling quite warm and secure... and a heavy lethargy seemed to steal over him. He happily gave into it, letting it drag him down into sleep, feeling more contented than he could ever remember being.

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A/N - I was asked if I could include more about what's happening in the outside world during this... and while that might make the story more rounded, I don't really plan on doing it for several reasons. First of all, as I stated in the beginning, I don't want this to be forever long like almost everything else I've written on here. This is a little vacation from the Flight universe, but not intended as a full fledged sabbatical. You all know how I get when I start getting detailed. Second reason is because I stated my intention to keep this entirely in Harry's perspective (though I'm obviously starting to test the boundaries of that a bit). Considering how traumatized both Harry and Draco already are, and the fact that they don't necessarily NEED to know, I truly doubt they would keep them informed on what was happening (just as Molly tried to keep them ignorant of Arthur's death). I imagine they would only tell them as much as they felt was absolutely necessary and no more. I would think they would want to simply wait until the war is over before slowly letting them in on the true losses. It would just add to their pain and trauma to keep telling them of everyone they lost as they went along with no end in sight. That would be too much for even those who started out with good mental health. And of course, the lack of information adds to the feeling of being isolated, which I believe would have a significant effect on the course of Harry and Draco's relationship. Do you really see them having anything to do with each other if they were in the thick of things? Anyhow, just thought I'd respond to that here since I imagine many of you have been wondering about it, even if you didn't put it in a review.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Upon awaking, Harry was immediately greeted by a throbbing headache. He let out a piteous groan, reaching up and rubbing his temple. As he carefully shifted around a bit, the aching in his body, along with finding himself on the couch, quickly reminded him of what had happened. There was a blanket over him now, and Draco was gone. He oh-so-carefully worked his way up into a sitting position, then grimaced. He had a dull ache in his gut, some rather serious soreness in his arse, and to top it off, he'd made a rather disgusting feeling mess on the cushion.

Once his head settled a bit, he reached over and felt around a bit until he located his wand on the coffee table. He made quick work of cleaning himself up, then used a scouring spell on the cushion. He couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd finished while Draco had been on top of him. A couple at the very least. His body gave a little involuntary shudder of desire as he remembered the feel of it. He'd never thought he'd do something like that. Shag a girl, of course... but let a boy...? The very idea had seemed rather disgusting to be honest.

Pushing such thoughts aside, Harry located his skivvies and got to his feet. He was still rather unsteady. Though the hangover had obviously already begun, he still felt a bit drunk. Never having been drunk before, he had no idea if this was normal. He wondered how long it had been. Hours? He still hadn't developed much of a sense of time. He wasn't even sure if it was daytime. It always seemed warmer near the couch during the day and he was almost certain sunlight through some nearby window accounted for it. No extra warmth now, but it was possible it was still just overcast from the storm. If anything, it seemed almost cold. He wondered if the fire needed stocking, but was hesitant to muck about with open flames, especially when he wasn't at the top of his game.

He couldn't help but wonder where Draco had gone. Maybe the roughness of the upholstery had bothered him, so he went back to his own bed? He carefully balanced himself as he pulled on his skivvies. They might not be much, but he was feeling rather exposed and vulnerable right now (not to mention chilly) and overall in no fit state to be waltzing around buck naked. He couldn't help but feel a bit let down to wake after having sex for the first time to find himself abandoned. It made him wonder if it had meant anything to Draco, or if shagging Harry had just been Draco's way of working out a little pent up sexual frustration.

The kitchen was empty, so Harry made his way over to Draco's bedroom. That was empty too. Harry even went over and felt the bed to make sure Draco wasn't simply being very quiet. He wouldn't have gone into Harry's room since that was sealed off. Worry started bubbling up inside Harry. Had Draco left the cabin? Surely he wouldn't have gone out onto the porch when it was this cold out. When he listened hard, he could hear no sounds other than the wind whispering through the trees outside.

"Draco?" Harry called out as fear started clutching his stomach. The sound of his own voice made his head pound angrily, but he didn't care. "Draco? Come on, where are you?!" He called, louder still. Harry tensed, listening as he heard something. The sound came again, but he found it was nothing more than the sound of a drop of water falling into standing water. Was it raining out again? But no, the sound was coming from the middle of the cabin, not the eaves outside. Was he in the loo?

Harry hurried over, finding the door to the bathroom closed. He knocked on it. "Draco? Are you in there?"

There was no response, just another drop falling within.

Harry tried the doorknob, but found it locked. More fear stirred within him. That door could only be locked from within, but if he was in there, why wasn't he answering?! There would be time for apologies later if necessary. Harry whipped his wand up. "Alohamora!"

The minute the door opened, a waft of warm, moist air flowed out to greet him and the fear lurched wildly in his stomach. The smell of blood hung heavily in the air. "Draco?!" He called desperately, hurrying in, his arms outstretched, searching for him. Another drop fell and he turned, following the sound and reaching towards the bathtub. His fingers hit water almost immediately. The tub was filled almost to the brim. It couldn't all be rainwater, because she had said it was only perhaps a third full and that was after the rain was done with... and the water was very warm, almost hot. He stuck him hand in, not caring what contact with the water would do to him. Actually, it barely even tickled his skin, but perhaps he was just a bit too preoccupied. His finger brushed something. He went cold inside as he grabbed it and realized he was holding a limp hand. His fingers slipped up, desperate to find a pulse... only to find a deep gash. The bottom seemed to fall out of his world as his fingers traced up, feeling the cut that extended from the wrist up nearly to the crook of his elbow.

"No!" Harry cried out in anguish, reaching up and finding Draco's head. It was still above water but slumped over, his nose nearly brushing the water's surface. Harry tried to locate a pulse on his neck, but wasn't finding it. His hand stilled, pressing gently. He'd thought he felt something. After a moment he found it again. There was a pulse, but only a very faint, erratic one. A thrill of hope went through him as an ever so soft breath cooled his damp wrist. He was still alive! For the moment at least.

Harry had a wild, panicked moment of indecision. He might be able to be saved, but only if he was tended to immediately. The bell would take too long. He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to calm. First thing was first, he had to get him out of that water and patched up!

That was easier said than done. Despite the fact that Draco weighed rather less than Harry right now, lifting a wet, limp body out of a pool of water can be difficult. The first time he tried to gather him up, he ended up getting his hand slashed across the palm. He found a shard of what felt like curved glass in the bottom of the tub, undoubtedly what Draco had used to do the cutting. He tossed that over into the rubbish bin and tried again. After a minute he managed it, getting the prone boy out onto the rug. That done, Harry grabbed up the nearest wrist. Forcing down the fear that he'd bung this up, he concentrated on the task at hand. He used his finger to guide the beam of his wand down the wound. He had to make two passes, one for whatever blood vessels and such might have been severed, and the second to mend the skin back together. He just had to hope and trust that the spell got all that it should, because there was no real way for him to check the internal healing. He ran his fingers over it when he was done, making sure it was completely sealed, then reached over, hastily doing the same for the other wrist. After that, he quickly ran his hands over the rest of Draco's body, trying to ignore the scars in his search for further wounds.

That part done, Harry got up, hurrying in to the other room and grabbing the medical case. He set it down and opened it up as he knelt next to Draco. His heart was racing as he ran his fingers along the lids, not even waiting for a full syllable from each until he came across the blood replenishing potion. He opened it, though that was hard with the blood on his hands... he wasn't sure if it was Draco's or his own, only just realizing how much the cut on his palm had been bleeding. He didn't really care though, not even bothering to take the time to heal it up. He couldn't even feel it anyway. He had to force his hands to stop shaking as he carefully poured a dose. Just as Neville had said it would, the bottle informed him in a cool, even feminine voice when a full dose had been poured, and in fact the flow of potion stopped on its own. He set the bottle aside and shifted Draco's head up, carefully pouring the potion into the boy's mouth. Harry had to gently massage his throat for a minute to get him to swallow, but then the potion was down.

Well, that was all he could really do at the moment, so he quickly rose. Time to fetch help. He hurried out into the kitchen to the bell cabinet. When he reached up to grab the handle, he found it covered with a sheet of parchment. He hesitated, then reached up and ripped the sheet off the tack that held it there. He was pretty sure he knew what this would be. He took it over to the table, finding his reading charm where he'd left it next to the book there. He placed it on the sheet and Draco's voice emerged from it, sounding both somber and achingly sad.

_Harry,_

_By now you must have found me. Don't ring the bell. I didn't mean to leave such a mess for you, but they were careful not to leave  
any potions that would do the job cleanly. Now that you have a wand it shouldn't be too difficult to despose of me. As my final request,  
I ask only that you incinerate me and banish the ashes so my father can't get a hold of my body and find some ghoulish purpose for it.  
Don't worry, no one's going to be all that surprised and no one is going to blame you. I tried this before, but they stopped me. They  
thought giving me responsibilities would keep me from trying again. I suppose it worked for a while, but I'm sure you can get along by  
yourself now, so there's no real point to my being here. I should have ended it days ago. I don't know why I lingered on. I know I can  
never be forgiven for what I did to you, and I'd never even ask you to try, but I hope you're a good enough person to carry out my final  
request despite how you must feel about me now. I don't know if it will mean much, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you alone like  
this, and even sorrier that I lingered long enough to hurt you. I suppose I could try to say it happened because I was drunk, but I don't  
believe that is any excuse for my actions. Maybe everyone is right. Maybe anyone born into my bloodline is just destined to turn out evil.  
It was only a matter of time before I lived up to my lineage. Perhaps everyone would be better off if the Malfoy bloodline was eradicated  
completely. I may not have been strong enough to kill my father, but at least the world has one less of us in it now. With luck, Father  
will join me in Hell soon and the world will be free of our ilk once and for all._

Harry picked the marble up off of the page and held it. So many things were racing through his head right now. If he rang the bell and they responded quick enough, yes, Draco would get competent help and would almost certainly live... but he'd tried this before... and if they thought they hadn't excised the need to kill himself from him, they would take him away and put him somewhere he couldn't harm himself. He knew Draco wouldn't want that... and as for Harry... the thought of being left alone...

He set the charm back down on the table, the resolve strengthening within him. He wasn't going to ring the bell. He'd still try to save him on his own... but he wasn't going to ask for help. That way they wouldn't find out. They wouldn't take Draco away. And if... God forbid... Draco didn't make it... well he will have gotten his wish and Harry would dispose of him as he requested. It was the least he could do after all Draco had done for him in these last few weeks. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself it was just as simple as that.

He went back in the bathroom and knelt back down at Draco's side. He checked for a pulse, but it was still weak and thready. He needed more blood. Harry tried to pour another dose of potion, only to be informed oh-so-calmly that he needed to wait fifteen minutes between doses for optimum results. Harry felt like pitching the infuriating bottle against the wall, but that would have been daft. Instead he recapped it and set it aside, then felt through the case until he was able to locate another bottle of it. He was surprised the case held that many, but then it was a kit packed for wartime, so he supposed there would be plenty of that particular potion. He shifted Draco's head up and poured the potion right into his mouth. The bottle stopped at one dose on its own anyway, so there was no point in using the measuring cup. He was relieved when it didn't balk at dispensing the dose. It was easier to get Draco to swallow this time, and he hoped that was a good sign.

He waited a minute, just listening, but there was no change. His breath was so shallow as to be almost indistinguishable. He wished Draco would improve. He didn't want to move him until he was strong enough, but a bathroom floor couldn't be good for him. He reached over, shifting up and feeling around until he found the spare towel he'd forgotten before hanging on the towel bar and dragged it down. Its coarseness might be uncomfortable for Draco, but the cold would be worse for him. As he was draping it over Draco he heard something that made his head snap around. A breath had sighed out of him. It was only marginally louder than it had been, but for some reason it stirred fear in Harry. He reached over, placing his hand on Draco's chest, but it didn't rise. He shifted over and searched for a pulse, but could find none. "No!" Harry cried in horror. Having no other magical medical training to fall back on, he started Muggle CPR. It seemed ages ago he'd been taught this, but he hoped he remembered it well enough. He switched back and forth between chest compressions and breathing air into him as tears streamed from his eyes. "You can't die! _Please_, Draco!" He sobbed desperately. It seemed like forever he worked on him, but every time he stopped to check, there was still no response. After a while, he started losing hope. The tiredness in his arms told him he'd been at it for quite some time. If it was going to work, it should have done it by now. Draco barely had any blood left in him from what he could tell, and he couldn't help but start to think there simply wasn't enough to sustain life. Maybe if he'd have been able to get more doses of potion down him... but then maybe the second dose so soon after the first is what caused this.

He slowed in his compressions, breaking down and sobbing. He slumped back against the cabinet under the sink, letting his anguish and misery overwhelm him. Every time he'd had any chance at happiness, it had been snatched away from him. He finally started connecting with someone and this is what happened. His curse had struck again, taking yet another life. This was all his fault and he knew it. He'd ignored the very simple instructions on the bloody bottle. And even if that wasn't what had done it... it was obvious from Draco's letter that Draco thought he'd hurt him. He was killing himself because of guilt over something that hadn't even been wrong! Why hadn't he just kept his bloody mouth shut? If he hadn't objected when Draco started then Draco wouldn't have been feeling so guilty about it. Why had he been such a bloody baby?

He let out a cry filled with anger, pain and self-loathing, but all that answered him was the echoes of his own voice, mocking him. He just couldn't take it. He lashed out, his arm striking the waste bin and knocking it over. He heard the tinkle of glass. He reached over, finding the source of the sound. It was the shard of glass Draco had used. He examined it absently, then let out another sob. He recognized it. It was a piece of the glass he'd broken weeks ago. He recognized the feel of the flowers etched into it. The glasses and dishes in the cabin were all odds and ends, few matching... and he'd never felt another with those flowers. He'd even provided Draco with the means with which to kill himself. He might as well have taken out his wand and finished him off himself.

His sobbing breath caught a bit. He'd clutched the shard and it slice into his hand once more. He examined the edge. I had a fine cutting edge to it. The throbbing of his hangover was still there, a constant background, but his emotional anguish left it pale by comparison. Still, it seemed to trap him in this moment, not letting him think beyond it. All there was was the pain swelling within him. His failure.

He was alone. The few loved ones he had left were probably out there dying. He was just going to have to lose them all one by one. They might even be dead already. Molly hadn't told him about Arthur until the issue was forced. What was he going to do when they told him Hermione was dead? And Ron? The thought alone was too much to bear. He couldn't face it. He felt the blood from his cut palm trickle down, and he wondered what the point was. He was blind and alone... he was useless to the cause, and to his loved ones. What did his future hold? Just more pain... even the best case scenario he'd probably have lost most of the people he loved and then become a burden to the few that remained. Sure they'd smile and insist they didn't mind, but sooner or later they'd grow to resent him. They shouldn't be saddled with him... Maybe Draco had the right idea after all.

Considering what he'd been through, he supposed it was amazing he hadn't given this serious thought before... but back then he'd been needed. He'd had a destiny. He'd fulfilled that already... and a fat lot of good it had done. For years he'd prepared for that one battle... and in the end it hadn't even mattered. The war was still going, people were still dying. His whole life had led up to that battle and he'd won... but in the end he'd really failed to do anything truly significant.

His life was like some cosmic joke... and he was tired of it. The decision took surprisingly little thought. It almost made him feel better in fact. The weight that had pressed on his heart seemed to lift as he gripped the shard of glass, pressing it to his arm. He took a deep breath and pressed it in. He tried to ignore the pain as he drug it down his arm, trying to keep the incision deep enough. If he'd thought of it himself, he'd have probably cut across the wrist, but the lengthwise cut down the forearm seemed to work for Draco... and it seemed oddly fitting that he do the same.

The pain was more than he thought it would be, but he'd endured far worse in his short life. It would be over soon. He could feel the blood running freely down his arm, even faster than expected. He switched the shard over to the other hand, but that hand was now covered in blood, and the smooth glass was hard to grip, not to mention it felt like he'd damaged his arm, as his hand didn't seem to want to close correctly. He'd barely done more than nick the other arm when the glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the stone floor. He didn't bother checking to see if there was a piece left big enough to continue the cut. His head was spinning and he knew he was on the verge of oblivion. He shifted himself laboriously over and settled down beside Draco, hoping he'd done enough. He draped his arm over Draco's chest, using his last bit of strength to make sure it was shifted so the pressure wouldn't slow the bloodflow.

As he lay there his mind swam and drifted. He wondered briefly if Draco would forgive him for not taking care of disposing of his body as he'd requested. Such thoughts were brushed aside. The letter was still on the table, and surely whomever found them would read it and grant his request. Perhaps they would incinerate them both together. He had a brief fancy of their ashes drifting out an open window... It was all fading away now... no thoughts, no sounds... just peaceful, purest black...

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A/N - Yes, for those of you who didn't know this before, I'm an evil sadist :) Well, chapter 3 was about half again as long as it should have been, and I would like to hear your reactions to this, so I didn't feel TOO guilty leaving off here. I have already started on the next chapter, and hopefully should have it complete within a few days. Of course reviews always help me keep on track and keep my muse interested (not too much hinting there, was it?).

On a completely unrelated topic, I just wanted to mention that I just ran across a tv series that is **_insanely_** wonderful if you're into slash. I was going to discuss it here, but I decided I should move it to my forum since it's really off-topic. Check it out if you're interested. Well, review first, then check it out :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"You always were one for the dramatic, weren't you?"

Draco blinked his eyes open, looking around. He was in a featureless room of pure white. Well a white space at least, since he couldn't actually see any walls or ceiling. He shifted his head over, looking at the boy standing there beside him. He was wearing worn bluejeans and a faded red t-shirt, his hands tucked in his pockets casually.

"Blaise!" Draco breathed achingly.

Blaise pulled his hands from his pockets and settled down cross-legged beside Draco. "What are you doing, Draco?" he asked sadly.

Draco's eyes teared up. He looked down at himself. He was laying there, naked but for a towel that had been draped over him a bit, the pink lines down his forearms surrounded by smears and dribbles of blood that stood out vividly against his even paler than usual skin. He tried to lift the arm so he could see it better, but barely even twitched. He could shift his head a bit to look around, but the rest of his body was unresponsive. Blaise remained there, watching him and waiting patiently for his reply. Draco couldn't seem to make himself address what he'd done. "Why can't I move?" He asked instead.

"Because you're still anchored to your mortal body." Blaise replied as if that should have been obvious.

"I'm not dead?" Draco asked, his eyes tearing up.

"Not quite... though you've made that distinction rather fuzzy..." Blaise replied. "You probably thought being in that water would make you go quicker, make it harder for them to bring you back if you were discovered, didn't you?"

Draco sighed, averting his eyes.

"Funny thing about raw magic. It has a primitive sense of self preservation. The magic strives to pool together to prolong its existence and strength. As you lay there dying, your magic was escaping your body along with your life. All of that magical water around a magically devoid body? It wouldn't stand for a void in the middle of it... especially when it was so simple to prevent it... since you conveniently slashed your wrists and provided it with easy access to fill the void... the water flowing in to your veins to replace the blood. Witches and wizards are natural sponges for magic. Did you know that? You made the perfect vessel for the insane amount of magic that was swirling around in that water. That's _got_ to be doing interesting things to you."

Draco let out another sigh. There was an awkward pause, then he muttered, "I wasn't really expecting this... to see you again..."

"Did you think you would just cease to exist when you died?" Blaise asked with amusement.

"To be honest? Yes. I mean I obviously didn't fear death, so I didn't figure I'd become a ghost... and I guess I thought we just drifted off into oblivion if that didn't happen. I certainly didn't expect you to come to collect me."

"I didn't. I've been with you since I died. You just couldn't see me."

Draco's eyes drifted over to him, then slid back away. "So is this normal? You being here?"

"Somewhat rare, but not unheard of. Sometimes spirits linger to watch over the living. We all have our different reasons for it. Love, guilt, need for a sense of completion to our lives, worry over what will become of our loved ones in our absence... many things can make us linger. You should see how many spirits there are watching over Potter!"

"Guess he's just more loved." Draco muttered.

"He _did_ have more people who cared about him who have died... but that's not all it is. Your mother loved you dearly, but she has passed on. She saw you escaping as she died... her purpose was fulfilled, and she had no reason to believe you wouldn't survive and go on to live a full and rich life. I just knew better."

"That's because she didn't know what I did." Draco said, his voice aching.

Blaise reached out, his hand brushing Draco's cheek and making his face turn towards him. "You freed me."

"I murdered you!" Draco breathed, tears pouring from his eyes.

Blaise shook his head. "No. There was nothing left of me but a broken shell by that point. I begged you to release me from my pain and you loved me enough to do it, even though it cost you more than I ever imagined. That's why I'm still here."

"Waiting to drag me down to Hell?" Draco asked bitterly.

"No... I'm waiting for you to forgive me." Blaise said sadly.

Draco tried to blink away the tears so he could see Blaise's face, sure the boy must be having some cruel jest at his expense. "Forgive you for what?!?"

"For being selfish enough to beg you to do something you can't seem to forgive yourself for. For escaping and leaving you there. I couldn't leave you with your pain on my conscience... and especially not with your death. This is all my fault and we both know it." he said, trailing his finger down the pink welt on Draco's arm.

"It wasn't just that. I lost my mother, everyone I cared about. I just feel so useless and... and what I did to Potter..." He trailed off achingly.

"Don't go blaming this on Harry."

"I wasn't! I'm blaming it on myself. On my weakness and what it cost him. I _hurt_ him. I was entrusted to watch over him and protect him... and I did it, though it was more for my selfish hope that doing penance would help ease the guilt... and then I end up doing that! I bloody well _raped_ him! If you've been watching like you say you have, you have to know that!"

Blaise let out a snort of amusement. "That wasn't rape. Believe me, I know what being raped is like, and what you did to Harry wasn't even close."

"I hurt him!"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Well of course you did! You can't dry fuck someone's arse with a stonker like yours and expect it to be pain free! Would pausing for a little lubricant have been so difficult? There was probably something in the bathroom you could have used. I was sore for three bloody days when you did that to me! And I wasn't a cherry!"

Draco's cheeks tried valiantly to blush, but couldn't quite manage it. "I didn't _plan_ on shagging him!"

"No." Blaise sighed, "You were just a drunk and insanely aroused teenaged boy."

Draco gave a pained breath. "That's no excuse. He asked me to stop and I didn't." he insisted stubbornly.

"Perhaps you should have just sucked him off and then gone into the bathroom and had another wank like you did after he was spooning up to you earlier, but you didn't... and who could blame you? That had to have felt absolutely bloody mind blowing!"

Draco averted his eyes.

"Who'd have thought my marathon man could get off so quick?" Blaise said with a wicked smirk. "Used to take you at least an hour when you were with me, and Harry had you in a lovely, sweaty post-coital bliss within five minutes."

"It was at least ten." Draco said defensively, "Besides, I can't help what that bloody potion does to my body!"

Blaise shifted over, bringing his face to within inches of Draco's. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? You felt guilty because sex with him felt so much better than it did with me. He turns you on without even trying and being around him without taking things further was killing you. You started falling for him, and it made you feel guilty because he wasn't me."

"I love you! I wouldn't..." Draco started tearfully.

Blaise stopped him by putting his fingers over Draco's mouth. "I love you too, Draco. Still, that doesn't mean I want you to spend the rest of your life alone, and I sure as Hell don't want you snuffing yourself the first time someone else starts getting close to you!" He shifted his hand up, stroking his fingers down the side of Draco's face. "Real love never dies. Since I'm dead, your heart may push your feelings for me down and bury them a bit so you can go on with your life, but you will never stop loving me. I know this, especially now. The wonderful thing about love is that it's _limitless_. No matter how hard you try, you will _never_ run out of it. You can go on to fall completely and utterly in love with someone else, and it will never diminish your feelings for me. I mean look at me! I fell arse over teakettle in love with that impudent little skirt and I am still _insanely_ in love with you, now aren't I? You could never have doubted my love for you for a moment! Real love is such a beautiful thing... and you could _definitely_ use more of it in your life. I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that it's ok to move on. I want you to. Harry is just as lost and broken as you are. He can understand you in a way few others could. Despite him being a Gryffindor... I think he deserves you." He said with a warm smile.

Draco couldn't come up with a reply for that.

Blaise smiled down at him. "Maybe it was fate that you two should end up together. We both know he was the first boy you ever had a fancy for. I was there. I saw your face when he knocked you back for that bloody Weasley boy the very first day at Hogwarts. He gave you an emotional slap in the face without even giving you a chance, and you took it out on him throughout your entire schooling together. My poor Draco... you really take it personally when someone scorns your attentions, don't you?" Blaise asked with a gently teasing tone, kissing the tip of his nose.

"It doesn't matter." Draco said gruffly, ignoring the teasing. "This was for his own good, even if he doesn't hold what I did against me. He'll be far better off without me. I mean what would they think if they ever caught us together? Those bastards are so homophobic they might even put him in jail as well!"

"So you were just doing this to protect Potter?" Blaise asked with a soft smile, shifting back up to gaze down at him. "Because if so, I'd have to say you're doing a piss-poor job of it."

Draco's eyes darted down as Harry faded into being. He was laying against him, obviously unconscious, his slashed forearm draped across Draco's chest, his warm blood flowing out freely.

"It's too bad. He's actually a rather sweet boy when he isn't putting on that puffed up Gryffindor front." Blaise said, stroking his fingers through Harry's hair.

"No!" Draco breathed in horror.

"Well, what did you expect?" Blaise asked with an edge of exasperation. "You knew how damaged and emotionally fragile he was! And I mean if _you're_ snuffing _your_self, why shouldn't _he?_"

"But that was different! I..." Draco started heatedly.

"You lost your family and everything and were forced to snuff out the last miserable little embers of my life. Yes, I know. You seem to be forgetting how much _he's_ lost. And you just topped it off with his first and _only_ lover snuffing himself right after taking his virginity. How fucked up is that?!?" Blaise asked with an angrily sarcastic edge.

"_Only...?_" Draco breathed softly, then he looked away, blinking more tears from his eyes. "I didn't know... I mean... I thought sure he would have..." He trailed off.

Blaise toyed with Harry's hair for another minute as Draco lay there, trying to assimilate that. "I suppose I should be glad he apparently cares so much about you." he said softly.

"Glad?!? Why?" Draco asked, confused.

"He's the reason I can talk to you right now." He reached down, trailing his finger through the blood on Draco's chest. "This is why you can see me. Souls that linger can only be seen in dreams."

"I'm just dreaming?" Draco asked, stunned.

"No. You don't have that ability or I would have been visiting you long before this, now wouldn't I? _He_ does, though." Blaise said, rubbing the blood between his thumb and forefinger. "And with the bit of his blood that found its way into your veins while he was trying to patch you up, and the bond that is forming between you two, you were able to be drawn in. Normally that wouldn't even be enough... but at the moment he's so close to death that the barrier between him and the dead is fading..."

Draco's eyes darted down to Harry, then back up to Blaise. "He's still alive?"

"Only just." Blaise agreed.

"Can you save him?!?" Draco asked urgently.

"No. I'm dead." Blaise replied sadly, then his eyes drifted up to meet Draco's. "Only you can."

"How?!?"

"That's for you to figure out." Blaise said, then he shifted over, kissing Draco lovingly. When the kiss broke, he sighed and rested his forehead against Draco's. "It's ok. You can go. Just remember that I love you."

Draco gave a slight nod, longing to hold him, but then closed his eyes and disappeared.

Harry's body drifted down to rest on the pure white floor, his blood disappearing. Blaise reached over, running his fingers through Harry's hair again. "It's easy to tell what he sees in you. You really are lovely. I've always thought so, but that's not exactly something a Slytherin says aloud about a Gryffindor... especially when they're the same gender. That rather severe homophobia is, unfortunately, nothing new to the wizarding world. Well, everywhere I ever lived at least."

Harry's eyes opened. It was odd seeing it, because he was seeing himself and Blaise as well from some disembodied location off to the side. Yet his eyes were open, and he could blink them at will, though they remained unfocused and he continued to see from the third person perspective. It was bizarre. At least he had some limited control now. Before his body had been nothing more than a lifeless prop, even after it finally appeared. His vision drifted closer and he saw the scar across his eyes. It wasn't that bad really, just a patch of paler skin. His eyes were just as clear and vivid as ever, though their lack of focus made his blindness readily apparent. He was quite stunned to see his lightening bolt scar though... it had always stood out against his skin... but now it was faded and all but gone. Was that just because he hadn't enough blood left in his body to color it? "So I'm dreaming?" He asked, watching his own mouth move with a kind of strange fascination as the words emerged from it.

"You could say that." Blaise replied. "Like you were dreaming before. Arthur is gone now, by the way. He and the others that man betrayed. There were so many of them..." He said, shaking his head with a somewhat introspective look on his face. His eyes returned to Harry. "You did a wonderful thing. You gave a lot of people peace."

Harry felt a deep, aching sadness at the reminder of Arthur's death... but it was lessened a bit by the idea that he may have truly helped him.

"I wanted to thank you as well." Blaise added.

"For what?" Harry asked, a vague sense of guilt stirring in him. He'd somehow enticed this boy's lover into having sex with him, and guilted him into killing himself. He couldn't see how any of that made him worthy of thanks.

"For giving him the chance to show you how he really is... for accepting him without judgement... and of course for _this_. For enabling him to see me again... letting me talk to him and actually be _heard_. Not a day passes that I don't regret with every last shred of my being having asking him to free me. Never blame yourself for what he did in that bathroom, because it really had little to do with you. He was just searching for an excuse, whether real or imagined. He's been punishing himself ever since my death, convinced what he did was something unimaginably terrible. I should have just let them finish torturing me to death. It probably wouldn't have taken more than a couple more hours, a day at worst. If I'd have had _any_ idea what it would do to him, I would have waited an eternity in their hands rather than put him through this. I thank you for the chance to talk to him... to try to get him to realize he did nothing wrong. I could wish for better circumstances of course, but at least we got one last moment together." Blaise said achingly.

"It's not like it'll really be the last time though." Harry said consolingly, uncomfortable with the boy's obvious pain. "Once he dies..."

"Once he dies he'll pass on." Blaise said. "But if he hasn't gotten over my death by then... if he hasn't forgiven me... or, more to the point forgiven _himself_ for my death... he won't find me waiting on the other side. I'll still be here, lingering with no anchor to this world, but with no means to pass on. Eventually I'll simply forget who I am and fade away."

"No!" Harry said, horrified by the thought. "If we live through this, I'll tell him. He'll forgive you. I know he will."

Blaise gave him a sad smile. "You can't tell him. If you do, guilt over trapping me here will just make things worse. He'll never truly move on. If you want to help me... help _him_. He has to release the guilt from his heart... let himself love again. I know he doesn't blame me, but I blame myself for the state he's in. I need to know he can be happy again... and _truly_ happy, not just pretending to be for my sake... I know him and I know his soul. I will know if it's real."

"What should I do then?" Harry asked, not sure what exactly the boy wanted him to accomplish.

Blaise reached out and stroked his cheek. "Just keep going the way you are. He's half way there... he's just fighting it."

"He's really...?" Harry started, but then stopped, embarrassed and not sure he could even make himself say it.

Blaise settled down beside him. "Why are you so surprised? I'd say you're very nearly there yourself."

Harry felt his cheeks warm, mortified at the observation.

"There's nothing wrong with being with another boy, you know." Blaise said gently, obviously picking up on his discomfort.

"That's not what they said in church when I was growing up." Harry muttered.

"Well, I try not to criticise those Muggle churches too much, because they're obviously just struggling to understand something that is beyond human comprehension... all I know is that I have no fear of what will happen when... or _if_ I guess... I pass over to the other side. I can feel it, even if I can't go there right now, and it's warmth and it's love. What God would really scorn love in any form? What God would insist on intolerance and hatred? Certainly not any God that I'd want to have. If you ask me, that shite was made up by some homophobes long ago for their own hateful purposes and passed off as gospel. To be honest, I still don't know if there is a God or not... all I know is that any and all love is welcome beyond that veil... and no one is going to knock you back just because you didn't discriminate against someone because of how they were born. Forget about what other people have said. Just listen to your own heart."

"I'll try." Harry said softly. "So..." He said tentatively after a moment. "There's really no Hell?"

Blaise dropped his eyes. "There is." He said softly. "There's no flames or pitchforks or any of that shite though."

"What's it like then?" Harry asked in a fearful whisper.

Blaise sighed, then lay down before him, shifting so close their noses practically brushed as he spoke. "It's quiet. Mostly just sitting around... watching the one I love most in this world sit alone and grieve for me. Watching him wasting away and blaming himself for my death..." He said as tears trickled from his eyes. "Watching him sit in front of a bloody window and do nothing but stare sightlessly through it and pine away for days on end. But as hard as that was, it wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was watching him become so afraid of living that he tried to kill himself the moment he realized he's found the one person who could bring him back to life. I could handle fire and torture and anything that ridiculous Biblical Hell could offer... but this... this is killing me in a way that no poison or knife could ever hope to."

There were tears in Harry's eyes and a tightness in his chest that ached worse than he thought possible as he imagined what that would be like. He didn't even really know this boy, but he found himself wanting to reach out, gather him into his arms and hold him. He was right, fire and pitchforks sounded very preferable over that alternative.

"I doubt he'll want to believe this was real." Blaise sighed sadly, "He'll just dismiss it and forget all about it."

"I won't let him forget." Harry promised softly.

Blaise gave him a soft smile, then shifted forward, giving him a kiss. It was lovely. Soft, warm and gentle... it held no desire for him or his favor... just a loving token of gratitude. Harry closed his eyes and the whiteness faded... the kiss became soft and immaterial... a little breath of icy coldness across his lips... and then it was gone.

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Harry struggled up through thick, clinging levels of consciousness. He was tired, but antsy in a way that wouldn't allow his sleep to be restful. He wanted to be up, to be free of the lethargy that was keeping him here. There was a queazy, uncomfortable feeling radiating through him that he desperately wanted to escape.

Suddenly everything seemed more real somehow. He felt a soft surface below him... he was laying on his side... and his hands were bound! He tugged against the restraint, but it held firm. Disoriented and groggy, he felt a sudden flash of fear flood through him. He yanked harder, then felt himself let loose a panicked surge of magic. There was a sudden smell of something burning and his wrists were free. He sat up, quickly trying to figure out what was going on, but the sudden shift in position had an unexpected effect on him.

"Whoa there! That's not too bright!" A high, clear voice said with an edge of amusement.

Harry felt his arm seized and he was pulled over to the side. He felt the bucket shoved into his hands barely in time as his stomach began purging its contents. He didn't get too terribly much up, but his body kept trying until he was pretty sure it was attempting to oust his internal organs as well. It was several painful, miserable minutes before it finally subsided.

"You done?" The voice asked after he'd spent a few more minutes doing nothing more than panting into the rather unpleasant smelling bucket.

Harry just nodded.

"Here... rinse with this and spit it in the bucket when you're done."

The unnamed owner of the voice took a hold of the bucket to free up his hand, but kept it there for him. Harry felt a small cup placed into his newly freed hand and smelled a strong peppermint odor. He was too worn out to object or even worry about the motives of this person or if the cup might contain something harmful. Besides, he was pretty helpless, so it wasn't as if someone would have to trick him to do something to him if they so desired. He took the dose and swished it around in his mouth. It had to be a potion, because it put even the most caustic Muggle mouthwash to shame. There was no doubt in his mind that no germ or odor known to man could escape this astringent liquid. He bore it for as long as he could to make sure it had a chance to do its job, but that wasn't very long. After he'd spat it out, his whole mouth felt slightly numb... but impeccably clean.

The bucket and little cup were taken away, then a damp cloth wiped his mouth. He didn't like being babied, but he didn't complain since the residue of the liquid already had his lips tingling as well. The last remaining bits of the bindings were pulled off of his wrists, then a damp washcloth wiped those as well.

"So much for that tie. Oh well. I never saw the point of tying a noose around your own neck anyway. Lay back down. You really shouldn't do too much moving around so soon after having half a bloody bottle of blood replenishing potion poured down your throat. You're lucky that potion absorbs into the system so quickly, otherwise I'd have to give you more."

Harry settled back down on his side, too worn out and queazy to want to do much else. He didn't know what was more depressing... how pitifully weak he felt... or that he was alive to feel this way. What was he going to say for himself when they asked why he'd tried to commit suicide??? He couldn't bear the thought of the questions he was sure to face... not to mention all of the tears and pity he would to have to endure. There was little doubt in his mind he'd be treated like a fragile child from now on, watched like a hawk and worried over constantly. The 'great savior' had let everyone down once again. He'd never felt more pathetic. "Who are you?" He asked wearily, "And why was I tied up?"

There was an amused snort. "Is it so surprising that I was afraid you might do something incredibly daft if you woke up while I was out of the room?"

Harry chose not to respond to that. "You haven't answered my first question yet." He mumbled instead. He couldn't help a little stir of curiosity. The voice was high, but gender neutral enough that he couldn't even tell with absolute certainty if this was a man or a woman. He didn't know anyone who sounded like this person, and all he could tell about him (or her) was that he smelled like a forest... but with a definite added hint of something vaguely reminiscent of freshly ground brown cinnamon. Would a healer smell like that?

"You couldn't pronounce my name if you tried. You may call me Archer if you like."

This was disconcerting. He still wasn't absolutely sure of the gender. He suspected the name was male, but couldn't be certain because there were female archers as well. Still, the healer's gender wasn't exactly of paramount importance at the moment. He decided to go with male and gave it no further thought. "Well, Archer, I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else I'm awake yet." Harry muttered, wondering if he'd be able to stave off sleep long enough to work out some sort of excuse for his actions that didn't sound idiotic.

Archer snorted with amusement. "Who would I tell?"

Harry furrowed his brow, puzzled. "The others. Whomever is here."

"There are no others. Just me." Archer said simply, his voice trailing towards the door. "Well, and him of course." He said over his shoulder as an afterthought.

Harry wondered to whom he was referring. He shifted over to call after him, but then the question died in his throat. His shoulder had brushed something... someone. He shifted around, then reached out tentatively. His fingertips met with warm, bare flesh. He could barely breath as he braced himself, then ventured further. It was a chest, gently rising and falling with slow, even breaths... a chest with many scars. He quickly traced his fingers up to find his face.

"Draco!" He sobbed in relief, wrapping himself around the prone boy, "You're alive!". He couldn't help the tears as they streamed from his eyes. He'd been so afraid his dream was nothing more than a dream... that Draco was dead and gone and it had been nothing more than his mind trying to pretend it hadn't happened.

Draco stirred, "Harry?" He muttered in a soft, groggy voice.

"You fucking selfish bastard!" Harry sobbed, smacking Draco's shoulder hard, but leaving his face pressed up against the side of the boy's neck. "How could you _do_ that to me?!?"

"I... I'm sorry..." Draco ventured, obviously thrown a bit by Harry's demeanor, "I just thought it'd be best for you if..."

"And who the bloody Hell gave you the right to decide what would be best for me without even bothering to bloody well _ask_ me?!?" Harry demanded angrily, shifting up. "I'm not a bloody infant! I can make my own decisions and bloody well look after myself! If you hurt me and I want you gone, I will tell you so right to your bloody face, you arrogant prat!"

Harry slipped one hand around to the back of Draco's neck, the other under his chin... both for orientation and to keep Draco from turning away as he forcefully claimed the boy's lips. He wasn't sure why he found himself snogging Draco so ardently and with such desperation, but he couldn't seem to help himself. After a moment he realized Draco wasn't resisting and took it further, forcing his tongue into Draco's mouth and plundering it mercilessly. The feel of their tongues battling, the hand that had seized his hair at the nape of his neck... it was all so strange and wonderful at the same time that it made his head spin.

Draco's other arm worked its way around him, then urged him closer with the gentle pressure of his fingertips on the small of Harry's back. Harry complied without thought, pressing up against Draco and wishing the bloody sheet wasn't between them. They settled there together, the kissing slowing and deepening. Harry felt a low, burning desire for more than mere kissing... but his body still felt too weak... not to mention Draco didn't feel as if he'd have the strength either. His hand was trembling slightly where it rested on his back, and though his kisses were just as hungry as Harry's, they lacked the commanding feel they had held the night before.

Eventually Harry had to break off the lovely snogging session, the burst of adrenaline that had fueled his earlier passion having faded. He shifted his head over, resting his forehead on the pillow beside Draco's head as he gasped a bit for air. "I'm sorry..." He gasped wearily after a moment.

"For what?" Draco asked, sounding just as winded.

"For objecting when you wanted to..." He trailed off, flushing slightly, "I just... I've never even fancied a boy, let alone wanted to shag one. The very _thought_ of some boy doing something like that to me... if it'd been anyone else I probably would have _killed_ him, or at least tried to." Harry said a bit ruefully.

"Then why didn't you stop me?"

Harry was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to word what he was feeling. "I guess... because... well it _wasn't_ anyone else, was it? It was _you_."

Draco remained silent, apparently unable to come up with a response to that.

"I wanted you, Draco." Harry said softly, "I wanted what you did to me... I just never really consciously realized I did until it happened... and I was scared. I admit at first I wanted you to stop, but that's because it hurt. A lot. I was afraid that was just what it was supposed to feel like... but then the pain faded some and it started feeling more amazing than I'd ever imagined it could. That was... it was just so..." Harry trailed off, at a loss for words.

"You were a virgin, weren't you?" Draco asked, "Not just with boys... I was the first person you'd ever been with, wasn't I?"

Now it was Harry's turn for embarrassed silence. After a rather long pause, he gave his head a slight nod. "It's not as if I really had time for anything like that." He muttered defensively.

"You should always make time for that!" Draco replied, his voice soft with weariness, but with a slightly teasing tone.

"Well, now that I'm useless I have nothing _but_ time." Harry quipped, having to try hard to make the comment sound light and keep the bitterness and self pity out of his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure I could find some uses for you..." Draco said with a hint of his old, familiar arrogance.

Far from irritated by the tone that had once driven him into furies, Harry let out a little groan of longing at the hint of promise in his voice. He wanted Draco to show him those uses more than anything, and was cursing his body's weakness. He settled for more snogging for now. Neither of them had the energy to make it as mind boggling as he knew from experience it could be, but it was amazingly lovely just kissing his lips... feeling the desire in them, the hunger in his tongue. He would be content to stay like this forever...

Draco pulled away slightly after a few more minutes. "Promise me you'll never do anything like that again." He said softly.

"Like what?" Harry asked, his mind still on Draco's lips.

"I woke up... and you were there... and I was covered in your blood... I don't think I could handle anything like that again." Draco said, his voice growing tight.

"Well how do you think I felt?" Harry asked, anger stirring inside of him, "I had to fish you out of a bloody tub and try to patch you up... and I failed! You know what it's like to know someone's life is in your hands and then fuck it up?!? It was either cut my wrist or walk out of this place and wait for the bloody Death Eaters. This way just seemed like the faster course."

Draco tensed. "Don't even joke about that!" He hissed.

"Who's joking?"

"You have no idea..." Draco started heatedly.

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea." Harry shot back, "I just didn't bloody well care!"

Draco was silent for a long moment, then said in a soft, but commanding voice, "Swear to me you'll never try to hurt yourself again."

"I'll tell you what..." Harry countered, "I'll promise I won't so long as you won't."

"We're not talking about me..." Draco started stubbornly.

Being stubborn is not something Harry is often outdone on. "Yes we are. That's the deal. I'll swear not to hurt myself so long as you do the same. You break your word and I swear I'll break mine."

"Why?" Was the only reply Draco could come up with.

"Because I've already lost too many! I refuse to lose you too!" Harry said, trying to keep his eyes from watering up. He shifted over, nuzzling up against Draco's neck. "Blame it on that bloody hero complex you were always saying I have. What's the point of going on if I'm so useless I can't even save you from yourself?"

Draco was silent for a long moment, then let out a resigned breath. He shifted his hand up and used it to guide Harry's lips back to his. The slow, affectionate kisses were wonderful... but Harry couldn't help but note he hadn't answered and wonder if this were just a way to keep from having to. Admittedly, it was rather lovely as far as distractions go...

"And I bet you thought he didn't like you." Archer's voice said in a lightly teasing tone from shockingly near by.

Harry jerked away from Draco, his cheeks warming as best they could.

"It's ok." Draco said quickly, keeping his hold on Harry, "Archer's probably the last person who would be shocked by something like this."

"By something like what?" Archer asked with innocent curiosity.

"By us kissing." Draco answered.

"Why would I be shocked by that? Is he a close relation? You two certainly don't look alike." Archer replied guilelessly.

Draco chuckled softly. "I'd forgotten just how different our worlds are. In our society, boys don't generally kiss other boys."

"Ah yes." Archer said agreeably, "You humans are so strange."

"No stranger than you." Draco quipped.

"Just look at you..." Archer said, sitting on the bed beside them. "Just a handful of years and you look twice as old as last I saw you!"

"That's because I _am_ twice as old." Draco said with an obvious fondness in his voice, "But you look just the same. I'd forgotten how lovely you are. I'd very nearly forgotten all about you to tell the truth. I don't know why I called for you. I'd swear I said your name before I was even fully conscious."

"I told you when we last parted ways that I would repay my debt to you one day when you needed me most. Apparently that day was today. Admittedly, I didn't expect your peril to be self inflicted." Archer said, his voice growing both sad and concerned. "I believe the boy asked you a question." He added after a moment, "I didn't hear your answer."

When Draco didn't reply after a moment, Harry prompted him. "Is it a deal?"

"Let's discuss this later." Draco muttered.

"Why later?" Harry asked.

"Because," Archer answered for him, "Draco knows that I can make a promise made in my presence magically binding."

"You can?" Harry asked, both surprised and intrigued.

"No!" Draco said quickly. "You don't understand, Archer. There are special circumstances..."

"Such as?" Archer asked, making it clear from his tone he thought Draco was hedging again.

"I was given a potion. No one who was given this potion has ever lived for more than a few years at most. You'd be condemning him to an early grave."

Harry shifted aside a bit as he felt Archer's hand brush him as it was placed on Draco's chest. Archer was silent for a moment during which Harry could feel an odd emanation coming from where the hand rested on Draco's chest. It was like a vibration, but without movement. That description didn't make much sense really, but it was the only way Harry could think to describe it. After a moment the feeling ceased and Archer pulled away once more.

"I know this one. It is, indeed, strong magic." Archer said solemnly. "It isn't necessarily fatal, however."

"You can remove it?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Regrettably no." Archer replied, "But there are ways in which it can be managed. This potion was not intended to be harmful. It has merely been grossly misused. You have undoubtedly noticed that it is only in full effect when the blood is racing in your veins."

"Well I guess you could say that. Most of the time it's bearable, but any time my adrenaline kicks in..." Draco muttered ruefully.

"That is because it was created long ago as an enhancer of _pleasure_. Unfortunately, other sensations trigger it as well, and once introduced into the body it tends to stay there. Still, it _can_ be a gift if you let it. With my help, you could learn to share the gifts it gives you, as it was intended. I believe the effects should be more tolerable once lessened a bit. Would you like my help?"

"Anything that would help." Draco said without hesitation.

"Then answer his question." Archer replied.

"Exactly what would I be agreeing to?" Draco asked warily.

"A pact between the two of you. If one should kill himself, the other would perish as well. Knowing you and from what I've witnessed of this boy, I believe that should be sufficient to keep the both of you alive... but on the off chance that one of you is still selfish enough to kill themselves, the other's death will be swift and painless I assure you. Don't worry, I will give you an out. If one dies in a way _not_ of their own devising, the other will be able to decide if he wishes to join him in death or live on. You won't snuff him by accidentally getting killed or dying of natural causes."

"I agree to it." Harry said firmly when Draco still didn't answer.

Harry could feel Draco's breath catch, his head turn towards him. After another drawn out moment of silence Draco sighed deeply. "Fine." He muttered.

Harry heard Archer shift, from the feel of it placing his hand back on Draco's chest, then he felt Archer's other hand pressing against his own chest just over his heart. As he started to speak in a soft, lyrical sounding language that Harry had never heard, Harry couldn't help but notice that the hand on his chest had only three fingers and a thumb. At first he thought perhaps Archer had lost a finger, but the hand felt natural and undamaged. For the first time he started really wondering what species Archer was.

All such speculation was forgotten as Harry suddenly felt the odd hand start to heat up. Well, that wasn't a completely accurate description, as it wasn't a physical, temperature type of heat... more a radiating of power so raw and so strong it felt almost like heat. An odd tickling sensation started up in the center of his chest. Harry had never felt magic like this. It was stronger than anything he'd felt before... but at the same time it also felt... well, completely natural was the only way he could think to describe it. It felt almost pleasant as the ticking sensation spread throughout his chest, and as the hand pulled away, it felt as if it left something behind. The tickling sensation faded slowly, and yet he had the sense that the power or whatever it was that had caused it was settling within him, merely becoming dormant. There was no doubt in his mind that this dormant power could and would come back to life and snuff him in an instant if Draco ever managed to successfully kill himself. The thought should have been terrifying, especially given Draco's apparent death wish... and yet Harry felt a deep sense of relief settle over him. Never again would he have to go through the horror and pain he'd felt upon finding Draco there in that tub.

It was almost shocking how much that thought calmed him. He let out a sigh that could only be described as contented, then settled back down against Draco, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. He didn't realize how tense and wound up he'd been over the possibility of losing Draco... and now that that fear was gone, his body just seemed to give up fighting the weariness it have been staving off. His breath slowed and evened out as he felt himself drifting off.

"You shouldn't have done that." He heard Draco's voice whisper a few minutes or so later as he hovered near the edge of oblivion.

"No, I believe I should have." Archer's voice replied softly. "I can feel the bond that has formed between you and this boy, even if you can't. I fully believe he would follow you into death even without my assistance... I just spared him the intense emotional pain he would have normally felt upon discovering what you had done, and the physical pain of whatever method he chose to end his life... as well as the guilt he would have felt for leaving the others that he cares about. They would be sad at his passing... but at least they would never know that it was of his own choosing. They would merely think he was struck down by some malignant spell."

"Ya, and then they'd spend years searching for who murdered him." Draco said pointedly, "That seems needlessly cruel, don't you think? And if you think they'd give up easily, you obviously don't know his best mate. He may _never_ give up searching!"

"No, don't worry about that. I made sure the power could be easily traced. It would take them days at most to track me down, even with mere human magic. They will be able to extract whatever justice they require to be at peace with his passing. I will not fight them or plead innocence. I'm willing to accept the punishment for my actions. Now I need to go get some more herbs to help with your recovery. I should be back shortly." He said as he rose from the bed.

"Are you suicidal too, then?" Draco asked with irritation, not letting the subject drop.

"No. I just have more faith in you than you apparently do. As much pain as you may be in, both in mind and body, I don't believe you would knowingly take the life of your mate."

"He's not..." Draco started heatedly, but he was cut off by a slight whooshing sound accompanied by a brief gust of wind and a tinkling sound like tiny glass fragments falling to the ground. Draco huffed out an irritated breath. After a few moments he sighed. His head shifted, and Harry could feel his breath on him as Draco obviously stared down at him. After a moment, he felt Draco's fingers tentatively brush through his hair. A little smile tugged at the edges of Harry's mouth as Draco gently stroked his hair, coaxing him that last little distance into sleep.

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A/N - First off, Archer is not a species you have met before, even if you read my other stories, so don't ask. I like making up new species just for shits and giggles sometimes. Sorry this took far longer than expected to get out. I didn't intend to leave you all hanging quite this long. Life is irritating, and I have a slightly obsessive personality... I started watching QAF and couldn't seem to stop until I'd seen all I could, and then I spent this last weekend reading the first three books in the Twilight series. I got the whole series in e-books! That was so cool. I promised myself I wouldn't read the fourth until I had put out another chapter though. I've always had a great love for vampires... not sure if it's because I like playful biting... or if I like playful biting because I like vampires ;) Anyhow, for those of you who don't normally visit forums, the link to mine should be in my profile. The new topic that I mentioned starting in the last chapter's author's note is called "Queer (Q u e e r) as Folk" (Fanfiction has been stripping that word out in places, so I just wanted to try to make sure it didn't make this note useless). You should definitely check that show out if you like slash. Most, if not all of the series is available on Youtube, though you have to watch it in little chunks and it's rather dark in places so it's hard to see. Still worth it though if you have no other means of watching it. It's most often referred to as QAF and if you need some help finding them on Youtube just ask and I can post some of the people's pages that have them. Also, just a bit of trivia for you... the song Draco was singing just before things got a little carried away was Patches by Dickie Lee. It was a favorite of mine when I was a teen, even though it was ancient even back then and even on an honest to God turntable record. A little single one at that. As I said, it was about a boy from the 'good side of town' falling in love with a girl named Patches who lived in a poor shanty town. His parents found out and kept him at home and he had no way of telling her that he still loved her, so she ended up committing suicide. They found her floating in the river. The line after the last one he sang was "It may not be right, but I'll join you tonight..." It was a very sad song, but for some reason I found it fitting.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Warning: most definitely adult (slash) content in this chapter (near end). Then again, if you aren't in to slash, why would you be reading this in the first place?

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Chapter 6

Harry was feeling much better when he woke once more. He had no idea how long he'd been sleeping. All he knew was that he was still snuggled up against Draco, and Draco was still breathing. That was enough for now.

There was an odd, rather herbal smell hanging in the air. After a minute he realized it appeared to be coming from Draco. He reached up and slid his fingers over Draco's chest, feeling an ever so slight oil residue on his skin. A hand seized his almost immediately.

"Don't." Draco muttered, shivering.

"Sorry." Harry said with a little abashed smile. He'd forgotten how sensitive Draco was. "Is this bothering you? Me being so close I mean?"

"As long as you stop trying to turn me on I should be fine." Draco replied with tired amusement. He shifted and stretched, then moved around a bit as if he were uncomfortable. He paused after a minute, "Turn over."

Harry complied, rolling over onto his other side without question. He couldn't help but smile as Draco rolled over, spooning up against his back and slipping his arm around him.

"Didn't want you breathing on the back of my neck. It's distracting." Draco muttered as he settled in more comfortably.

Harry could well imagine. He didn't even have that potion in him and the feel of Draco pressed up against him had him straining his boxers a bit. He just wasn't used to having someone this close to him. It seemed so very intimate. "What's that smell?" he asked, trying to distract himself from Draco's proximity.

"Hmm? Oh, that's some herbal concoction Archer put on me. He said it should help. It should be pretty much sunk in by now."

"Who is Archer, anyway? An old friend of the family or something?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco snorted derisively. "Hardly. He's a Northern Mountain Elf. Well, they generally live at the base of mountains really, but that's what they're called at any rate. I met him while my father was hunting him down. He'd already wounded him pretty badly in fact. Archer's type are pretty strong and resilient, not to mention devilishly hard to find... but there are ways wizards can hurt them if they are fortunate enough to happen across one. Father had already gotten him with a barbed tether trailing a lead weight so he couldn't do that strange type of Apparating their type does, and was trying to finish him off with poison laced crossbow arrows. Archer pulled a shaft out of his own shoulder and threw it back so hard it scored a pretty deep hit in father's leg."

Harry let out an amused chuckle. "So is that why you call him 'Archer'?"

"Seemed like a keen enough nickname when I was eight! I mean think about it. It was the first time he'd ever set eyes on an arrow and he was able to sink it without even having a bow! That's what I call a natural. Too bad the poison was only designed to take down elves..." he sighed, sounding truly regretful. "While father was trying to patch up his leg, Archer ran on ahead. He didn't know father and his mates had been herding him back towards camp so the few watching the camp could pick him off if he got past them... but those blokes had all run in to the woods to help father when they heard him yell when he got hurt. When Archer stumbled out into the camp, I was the only one there. Father always took me along in hopes of 'manning me up' a bit... but always said I was too weak to be much of any real use during a hunt. Guess he was right. I took one look at Archer kneeling there, about ready to pass out and I just... I just couldn't _not_ help him. I helped him up and took him over to my tent and hid him in there. The thing was nearly the size of my room back home on the inside, so there was no shortage of space. I managed to get the tether off him, though I know that must have hurt like Hell... then I took it and tossed it as hard as I could into the forest on the other side of the clearing. When father got back, I told him Archer ran through, but when I tried to follow I lost sight of him. He and the others went back out to continue the search and I went out into the forest and gathered the plants Archer had described to me so he could counter the poison. The hunting trip lasted a further week, and we got to know each other pretty well in that time. He started out not knowing a word of English, but within a day or two he was prattling on well enough. He was fluent by the time he left. Luckily, by the night before we were to leave he was strong enough to make his escape. I thought I'd gotten away with it, but the day after we got home, one of the accursed house elves told father she'd found blood in my tent when she was cleaning it. After the house elf we'd taken with us admitted how much extra food I'd been requesting him to bring me during the trip, father figured out pretty quickly what I'd done. I'd never seen him in such a rage. He said I'd made a fool of him and disgraced him and all that. He beat me so bad mother had to take me to Saint Mongo's. That one took a while to recover from. Still got a few of the scars."

"He injured you for helping me?" Archer's voice asked suddenly from behind them.

Draco started, then shifted up, turning a bit. "Bloody Hell!" Draco snapped, "Put some bloody bells on or something! This sneaking up on me thing is getting old!"

"I'm sorry." Archer said softly, his voice full of regret.

Draco sighed, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, then dropping himself back down next to Harry. "It's alright." Draco muttered, "You just startled me."

"I cannot help my stealth, it is in my nature. My regret is for the pain I caused you. I should not have allowed a child to help me. I never imagined your own sire would harm you for saving my life." Archer said sadly.

Draco sighed deeply, slipping his arm back around Harry. "Forget about it. Not your fault my father is a sadistic bastard. I knew him, and I knew full well what I was getting myself in to. No matter how mad he got, I knew he wouldn't kill me since I was his only heir... you, on the other hand, would have been dead in rather short order without help. It wasn't that hard of a decision."

"If all humans were as noble and selfless as you, perhaps our two species could live in harmony." Archery replied sincerely.

Draco just made a dismissing sound, obviously disconcerted by the compliment.

"Is that where these scars came from? I don't remember you having them before." Archer asked gently.

"No. I just have a couple small ones from that. Most of these are new. They're from my father, but it had nothing to do with you." Draco said, his tone dropping and growing dark.

The silence that followed felt a bit uncomfortable, especially for Draco. Harry could feel him starting to fidget a bit after a minute or two had passed.

"Um... I should find my wand." Harry said suddenly. "I imagine we left quite a mess." Not that he wanted to get up, let alone return to the small room where he very nearly ended his life, but he felt the need to break up the silence.

"I already cleaned what I could." Archer replied, "I doubt the rug is salvageable. It was a while before you were both stable enough for me to be concerned about anything more than your health."

"You didn't have to clean up after us." Draco muttered, obviously feeling a bit chagrin to be reminded of what he'd done.

"I'm used to keeping busy. If you'd like to give cleaning it another try, perhaps you should take another dose of that potion first, just to be safe." Archer said, obviously talking to Harry as he moved over to the bedside table. "You still look a bit pale. That your bottles announce their contents aloud was a relief since I don't know your written language... though it was a rather startling discovery. Still, I'm not sure what a 'pint' is. A unit of measurement I imagine."

"It's about twice what that glass over there would hold." Draco said, seeming to be indicating towards the bedside table.

"Ah..." Archer replied, "In that case, one more should be more than sufficient I believe."

"You should probably take some too, Draco." Harry said as he shifted up into a sitting position, "You probably lost more blood than me."

"No." Archer replied immediately before Draco even had the chance. "Draco can not take this."

"Why not?" Draco asked curiously, "Did you already give me enough?"

"One dose was more than enough to tell me not to try again." Archer said, his voice a bit tight. "Your heart stopped when last I tried. If I had not already dosed your mate and seen it did not injure him, I would not have used it on him either."

"What do you mean, my heart stopped?" Draco asked, baffled, "It's just a blood replenishing potion! It's probably one of the most harmless potions in the kit!"

"Apparently your body doesn't want its blood replenished. I can only guess that it had something to do with the odd nature of that water. Once you had taken the potion you lost consciousness, then your heart stopped. It was quite distressing, as I'm sure you can imagine. Apparently, this potion only works on the living. Once your heart had been stopped for about a minute, the potion was neutralized, then your heart resumed beating."

"That's what happened when I gave it to him too!" Harry said, his stomach clenching at the memory. "I thought I'd bunged it up somehow and killed him." He suddenly felt like a blithering idiot. Giving him CPR had probably just made his body wait longer for the potion to be neutralized. If he hadn't done that... but then how was he to know Draco's heart _needed_ to be stopped? And if he'd just waited another minute after giving up... Draco's heart had probably started back up right about when Harry passed out. He'd been such an idiot!

A soft, warm hand slipped over his. "There's no way you could have known." Draco said softly, obviously picking up on the self depreciating nature of Harry's thoughts. He twined his fingers in Harry's and gave his hand a little squeeze. "What I did was unconscionable, and I don't know if you can ever forgive me for it... but I know I have no right to ask you to. I never expected to still be alive when you found me. I was just too wrapped up in my own pain to really think about what I'd be putting you through... and too daft to remember the anti-drowning charm on the bathtub that keeps your head above the water if you're unconscious." he added a bit ruefully.

Harry reached over with his free hand and smacked Draco's shoulder rather hard... but despite the fact that his bloody useless eyes were betraying him and spilling tears down his cheeks, he couldn't help the little half laugh that escaped him.

He heard something dropped softly on the end of the bed, then after a moment he felt Archer placing the small measuring cup in his hand. He slugged it back, then grimaced. It tasted disgusting. The little cup was taken back away.

"What's in the bag?" Draco asked curiously.

"This?" Archer replied from near the end of the bed, "They're clothes for you. I had a look through your things, and with your sensitivity I doubted any of it would be wearable for you."

Draco released Harry's hand and shifted down the bed a bit. "You expect me to wear these?" Draco asked incredulously.

Archer chuckled softly, "Believe me, those are the most subdued colors I could find. You're lucky that they only use this ultra-soft material for newborns. If you had to wear the colors the adults wear..." he just trailed off with another little chuckle.

"Right." Draco said distractedly, obviously inspecting the material, though it made very little sound. "Forgot about that. You always blend in."

"We Guardians wouldn't be very effective if we contrasted so starkly with our environment."

"Very true... You sure they won't need this material for the kids?" Draco asked curiously.

"The latest batch of children are done with them, and by the time the next batch comes in the fashion will have changed enough to make these colors obsolete and they will have to make all new clothing anyway. This material comes from rare flowers that we cultivate. One of the weavers I know tends to keep all of the clothing once the children are done with it. She is forever hopeful that one day the colors will come back around and even if the cut of the clothing has changed, the fibers can be reused. These fibers are too fine to be re-dyed without losing some of the softness, but our weavers have the power to make cloth unravel into base fibers and re-weave into new material. These are from the last two batches, greens and blues. She said she'd look through her stores for older ones, but these are probably as subdued as you're going to get unless she goes back about thirty years or so. Luckily this material never seems to break down."

"Well, tell her thanks for blending the colors at least. The mottled effect is much better than a quilting of those colors would be I imagine... still, you didn't have to do this. Don't make her go to all that trouble on my account. Besides, you shouldn't be wasting a rare material on me." Draco said, obviously feeling a bit guilty.

"Nonsense!" Archer replied immediately. "It's almost ridiculously optimistic of her to believe any of our people will ever want to use them again. Besides, she was thrilled by the challenge. She's never been asked to use that material to fashion clothing big enough for a Guardian to wear. Usually, her biggest challenge is getting material to dye garishly bright enough for the tastes of the villagers! She made two sets for you and two for your mate..."

"Harry!" Draco snapped a bit exasperatedly.

Harry jumped slightly, wondering what he'd done.

"His bloody name is _Harry_, so stop calling him that!" Draco continued rather gruffly.

"Very well. I can see you're touchy on the subject, though honestly I can't see why." Archer said, obviously shrugging it off.

Draco made a little exasperated sound, and then Harry felt something soft and light hit his chest silently and slide down. There was no real impact... it felt more like a little puff of warm air when it hit. He picked it up. The material was thin and ultra soft, but warm. It reminded Harry oddly of a kitten's fur. The only bad thing was that it was so soft his fingers caught at it as if they were made of sand paper!

"I told you your skin was rough!" Draco chuckled, obviously spotting this. "Too bad we can't use the facilities for a while."

"Why not?" Archer asked.

"The magic in the rainwater from that magical storm the other day will have sunk into the water table by now. It won't be safe until we're sure it's either dissipated or all gone downstream." Draco explained, sounding rather depressed by the fact.

Harry had to smile with amusement, imagining what torture this must be for poor Draco.

"I figured out how to work your water sources. There's a bit of magic, but not enough to be harmful. In fact the two of you have probably already been exposed to enough to make you tolerant, so you probably won't even notice it much."

"How can it not have gotten into the ground water?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Wild magic pools if it can." Harry said distractedly, trying to determine if his touch was actually snagging the material or just irritating him. "It must have found someplace else to concentrait."

"This would seem to be a logical explanation." Archer agreed.

Draco was silent for a long moment, and Harry had the oddest feeling the boy was staring at him. He just couldn't figure out what he could have said wrong.

"Well, I imagine that Draco has the skin care items you will need. I did bring one thing though..." Archer said with a rather mischievous tone to his voice.

Harry heard Draco catch something small.

"Only use three drops. Four if you plan on taking more than half an hour or so. Don't worry, that will be more than enough."

"What is it?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Draco cleared his throat, "If I were to guess, I'd say lubricant."

Harry couldn't help but snicker at the embarrassment in Draco's voice. "Thank God!"

"And you had best _use it!_" Archer said with a mildly reprimanding tone. "Males your size can do a lot of damage without it. Don't worry, this is probably the best available. My species is entirely what you call 'homosexual', so the males have obviously been refining it since the dawn of time. You should see some of the impressive toys the women folk have come up with over the years! It's no wonder they only need males for actual reproduction." He said, sounding oddly almost wistful at the end.

"Well, I think we should clean before we get ourselves all ponced up." Draco said, setting his clothes aside and shifting his legs over the side of the bed.

"Right." Harry said, setting aside his own clothes... and hoping they didn't see it clinging to his hand a bit like velcro when he tried to release it. He'd never thought of his skin as particularly rough, but he wasn't sure he could put this cloth on right now if he wanted to.

He hurried up as he heard Draco let out a little upset groan from the direction of the bathroom. "What? Is it that bad?" He asked as he came to a stop at the door. He didn't have to worry about seeing anything disturbing of course, but he could already smell a faint hint of blood on the air.

"Here." Draco said, putting Harry's wand in his hand. "Let's see if we can do anything with the tub."

"Ok..." Harry replied. The tub was about the last thing he figured would need magical assistance to clean. How hard could it be to drain the bloody water and rinse? Still, he did what he could without question. He cast scouring charms, letting Draco's hand on his wrist guide it. After a few minutes, it was obvious from the frustrated sounds Draco was making that it wasn't working as he'd hoped. "What's the matter?"

"I stained the bloody tub." Draco sighed miserably. "It's a solid brownish red color where the water was, just a couple of inches of white porcelain left at the top. How the bloody Hell are we going to explain this?"

Harry smiled. "Why are you so worried? They know magical water got in there. We'll just say it must have done something wonky. They probably won't even think it anything more than another fluke result of wild magic."

"Let's hope they buy that." Draco muttered, not sounding too enthusiastic.

Somehow Harry didn't think it was what others might think that was bothering Draco so much. He supposed if he had an obvious bit of evidence of a mistake he'd made sitting there where it would be staring him in the face every day he wouldn't be that happy about it either.

The rest of the bathroom went better. With the persistance of five scouring spells, the bloodstain did eventually come out of the rug. Well, according to Draco there was still a slight discoloration on it, but since it was a woven rug, he could just flip it over. The blood that had made its way around to the bottom had remained moist and had therefor come out easier. After that, Harry cast general cleansing spells over the whole room to try to get anything they missed, being sure to aim a couple under the tub just in case. That done, there was just a touch of cleanup to do in the kitchen (apparently Harry's hand had been bleeding a bit more than he realized), incineration of the suicide note and other minor touchups.

"Well, that should be good enough for now." Draco finally sighed. "Let's see about getting you cleaned up."

"I'm not clean?" Harry asked in surprise, feeling the arm he'd cut. Well, he did feel a slightly different line down his arm where the cut had been, but he didn't feel any obvious blood or anything.

Draco let out an amused breath, but it was Archer who answered. "I believe he'd just like to soften you up a bit so you didn't feel like tree bark to him." He said in a gently amused voice.

"Oh." Harry said, blushing. Was he really so coarse feeling? Well, that material certainly seemed to think so. "Ok."

Harry just waited while Draco cautiously tested the water in the tub, then adjusted it. He also heard him opening a couple of bottles and pouring a bit of the contents into the water. He didn't bother asking what he was adding.

"Ok." Draco said at last, shutting off the water. "Let's get you in. Off with the skivvies."

Harry pulled them off, hoping Archer had left. The man was too silent for him to be able to tell. Well, at least the possibility of being watched helped him fight off the arousal that trickled through him as Draco took a hold of his arm. Harry let him guide him into the tub and sit him down. The water was delightfully warm, just this side of hot, and it had a heady herbal musk to it. He was thankful for Draco's guiding arm though, because whatever had been added to the water made the tub feel a bit slick beneath him.

"Ok, now I want you to stay there and make sure you stay down in the water, shoulders and all. Nothing but your head above, got it?" Draco said with a mock sternness.

"Um... ok..." Harry said uncertainly, shifting down a bit in the tub. Good thing this tub was so large. "Where are you going?" He asked quickly when he heard Draco start to walk away.

"Archer wanted to talk to me. Don't worry, I'll be back in a bit. Besides, you could use a real good soak."

Harry nodded mutely and heard Draco continue on. From the sound of it, he returned to the bedroom. Soft sounds of conversation followed, though they were too low to make out. Well, at least it appeared Archer hadn't been watching him strip. Not that it really mattered he supposed, especially since he'd only been in his skivvies.

The water felt wonderful actually. It tingled gently against his skin, but not like the magical water had. Archer had been right. If there was any magic left in this water, it wasn't much at all. He settled himself in to wait, just enjoying the soothing water and listening to the cabin around him. There was a slight whistling above him whenever the wind hit just right and he could feel an ever-so-slight draft filter down. He'd all but forgotten there was still a hole in the roof up there. The wind blowing against the cabin, though it didn't sound too terribly bad, made it creak and settle with little soft sounds of age. It was funny. He'd never heard it speak so much, and there had been times when he'd been really listening, trying desperately to hear anything beyond their confines. He wondered if the storm had damaged more than just the roof.

It was kind of pleasant though, those sounds. The soft creaking of wood sounded comforting in a way. He wasn't sure why. It was nothing from his childhood that he was aware of. Hogwarts may have been ancient, but it was made of stone, which rarely if ever made noises... and the Dursley's would never have stood for their perfect little home creaking. Well, the stairs creaked, but that was due to the unusually high strain the Dursley men put on them when they walked up and down them... and he probably wouldn't have even heard that if he wasn't stuffed in the tiny cupboard directly underneath them. That hadn't been a comforting creak though. More alarming if anything. Still... perhaps that was it in a way. Perhaps it was simply because it sounded so unlike that wretched place. Actually, thinking about it, the Burrow tended to creak a bit, especially in high wind. Not exactly like this though. No, this was a different kind of creaking. The Burrow didn't sway like this either. It may be a bit ramshackle, but it was sturdily built. Then again, the cabin was a single floor built firmly on the ground... why was it swaying?

Harry opened his eyes, looking around. There was a large pole beside him, like a telephone pole, only bigger. His eyes trailed up it, noting the crossbars above upon which hung sails hanging limply, awaiting the return of the wind. It came to him slowly. A boat. No, a ship. He looked around. He was on the deck of a large old wooden ship... one that creaked softly as it rolled upon the gentle swells. There was an odd half-light to his surroundings, but he couldn't tell if it was twilight or pre-dawn.

At first he thought he was alone, but then he turned and spotted Draco. He was standing at the rail, looking out over the water. Harry walked over to him and came to a stop beside him. Draco looked over at him and smiled. The simple expression made Harry's heart flutter oddly in his chest. The boy then returned his gaze to the water. He seemed to be searching the horizon for something.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, though the peaceful feel of the place kept his voice at no more than a whisper.

"Watching. Waiting." Draco replied simply, his voice a whisper as well, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

"For what?" Harry asked.

Draco looked over at him then. "I don't know," He whispered, a look of pleasant anticipation on his face, "but it's close."

Harry looked out over the water. The sky seemed to be brightening a bit near the horizon, but he wasn't sure. Perhaps his eyes were just adjusting. "Will it be something good or bad?" He asked with mild apprehension.

Draco shrugged, "I don't know that yet either... all I know is that something inside me wants it... whatever it is." He shifted his arm, offering Harry his hand.

Harry took it without even thinking. As soon as Draco's hand closed around his, Harry felt it too. The soft, urgent longing he could neither explain nor describe. His eyes joined Draco's, combing the horizon, feeling this strange certainty that something would appear there at any moment.

"Wake up!" Draco's voice said with a hint of amusement as a hand shook Harry's shoulder.

Harry's eyes snapped open, but inky blackness had claimed his vision once more. "What happened?" He muttered groggily.

"You fell asleep. You should be glad for the anti-drowning spells!" Draco replied.

"Blimey!" Harry sighed. He'd never fallen asleep in a bathtub before. What a daft thing to have done!

"Well," Archer said briskly from somewhere near the doorway, "I'll leave you two to tidy up. I'll be back to check on you, maybe bring you more clothes if she's made more. I expect you two to be clothed when next I see you! Unless you're copulating of course. Just don't be wandering about with nothing but those thin little groin guards on. Summer may be on its way, but it won't be here for a bit longer. Those clothes should be good enough for short trips outside as well, but don't linger if you start getting cold."

"Thanks, but you really don't need to be checking in on us. We'll be fine." Draco said quickly.

Archer made a little snort-like sound. "I'll be the judge of that! You two be good."

Draco sighed, but Archer didn't appear the type to linger. Harry heard that odd little tinkling sound coming from the kitchen and Archer was gone.

He heard Draco opening the door to the cupboard behind the door, then he returned. He set something down beside the tub. Harry wasn't sure, but it sounded like a bag. A somewhat heavy one at that, and one full of many containers from the sound of it.

"I think you've soaked long enough." Draco said distractedly, poking through the bag's contents.

"So I'm done?" Harry asked hopefully.

Draco gave a snort. "Hardly. You're just getting started. Give me your arm."

Harry complied and Draco took a hold of it and started scrubbing his elbow. Harry blushed. He was pretty sure it was a loofa sponge Draco was using on him. Not that there was anything wrong with them... but his Aunt had always kept a couple around and used them religiously. The thought that this was something she would use made him feel slightly unsettled.

"Something wrong?" Draco asked as he switched over to the other elbow.

Harry quickly shook his head.

"I admit, the idea of using the skeleton of a sea creature on your skin is a bit disturbing, but it's what works best for the tough spots. I have rubs for the rest, but the knees, elbows and feet need some serious scrubbing. Especially yours. You've never exfoliated at all, have you?"

Harry let out a little, amused breath. "I'm a _boy_."

"There's nothing unmanly about being well groomed. Think the ladies prefer someone whose skin is rough and has sandpaper stubble that could take their skin off?"

"Well, no, but..." He trailed off, feeling his chin. He didn't have any stubble at all. He hadn't shaved once since he'd awoken in fact. He hadn't had much in the way of facial hair yet before his coma, but he'd expect there would be _something_ by now. The idea had just never occurred to him.

"Oh, they took care of that for you. Permanent hair removal spell. Don't worry though, it can be countered if you want a beard later. They just didn't want to leave any razors behind..." Draco said, his voice trailing off. He fell silent after that, keeping himself intent on his scrubbing.

Harry didn't comment on that. They'd obviously gone to great lengths to try to keep the means to snuff himself from the self-destructive boy's hands. He found it a bit surprising that they hadn't thought to remove the glasses, or at the very least cast spells on them to keep them from breaking. Then again, thinking about it, trying to eradicate or neutralize every potential threat would be a mind-boggling task. Anything that could break could be a potential weapon. Hell, Draco'd very nearly gotten snuffed by a lamp! And he doubted they had been able to lend the matter their full attention under the circumstances. There _was_ a war going on after all!

His thoughts were derailed as Draco set aside the loofa and rose. He wondered where he was going, but the question was answered before it could even be asked. He felt Draco's foot slipping into the water, brushing his leg. "What are you doing?" He asked in surprise.

"Getting in. It's getting nippy standing about starkers. Budge up, but don't move around too much. It's slippery enough without waves to contend with." Draco said, maneuvering about.

Harry pulled his legs in a bit, but otherwise tried to stay still as Draco settled in. The water level rose a bit alarmingly, but whether there were charms against overflow or they were just lucky, he didn't hear any sloshing out. He felt a bit odd when he felt Draco's feet slip under his bent knees, coming to rest on either side of him. He'd never shared a bath before. Hell, he'd never had another person in the room while he bathed for that matter (nosey ghosts aside). He'd always waited until the other boys were out of the loo before bathing in the dormitories.

Draco didn't appear to think anything of it. He just went to work on Harry's knees, scrubbing each with single-minded interest. When he moved down to Harry's feet, he paused to carefully trim his toenails, then grabbed up one of the feet and began scrubbing it intently. Harry suddenly found himself trying desperately to find something else to focus on. For some reason, the singular attention Draco was giving to his foot felt very intimate. Harry was finding it very difficult not to get aroused. It was embarrassing. Why should someone mucking about with his foot give him a stalk? He brushed his hand over Draco's foot curiously. Despite the fact that he knew the boy walked around barefoot pretty much constantly, the foot felt surprisingly soft.

"Trying to see if I'm ticklish?" Draco asked with a teasing tone, though his attention was obviously still on his work.

"No... I just... um... you're feet are a lot softer than I thought they would be. Doesn't it hurt whenever you step on anything?" Harry asked.

"No. Not really. It would have to be gravel or the like to hurt them. Just because the surface is soft doesn't mean they aren't tough." Draco replied distractedly, working his way between the toes.

Harry shivered, then quickly tried to disguise disguise the movement by moving his hand away from Draco's foot. He furrowed his brow, reaching back down. His fingers had brushed Draco's leg and there was something odd about it. He slid his fingers along it for a moment before realizing what it was. "You don't have any hair on your legs." He said with amusement.

"I don't have hair anywhere on my body other than my head... and one other spot you might have noticed." Draco replied, the innuendo on the last bit unmistakable.

Harry fought a blush. Yes, he definitely remembered what other part he hadn't shaved. "Is that something that... umm..." He trailed off, embarrassed at what he'd been about to ask, and chagrin that it had just started coming out before he realized how insulting it might sound.

"You curious as to if it's a thing faggots do?" Draco asked. His voice was light, but there was a slight irritated undertone to it.

"Um... ya." Harry admitted in an embarrassed mutter.

"Well, the answer is: not to my knowledge. It was more of a 'I can feel a breath all the way across the bloody room if I don't get rid of the million tiny bloody antennae' kind of thing."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Harry muttered.

Draco didn't reply. He just switched feet.

"Does... um... _my_ hair bother you?"

"Don't worry about it." Draco replied.

From the slight pause before he spoke and the way he didn't actually answer, it was easy to tell it did. Harry didn't like that thought. Well, it's not like he was really attached to the hair on his legs... "Um... well, could you show me the spell to remove it?"

Draco paused in his work. "You really want to?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

"It's a rather permanent spell. Its the same as the one they used on your face... and I mean getting it back in a small spot like on a chin is one thing... getting it back over much larger areas might prove very difficult."

Harry shrugged again. "Why would I want it back? Let's be honest, the hair has little to no real purpose. Why not be done with it?"

Draco resumed his attention on the foot, but this time his silence felt contemplative. When he was done he set aside the sponge, then rose. Harry heard him pick something up off the sink, then felt Draco shift down. The hilt of his wand was placed in his palm and he took hold of it. "Shift forward a bit." Draco said simply.

Harry complied and Draco stepped around him, surprising Harry by sitting down behind him, then reaching his arms around Harry's chest and pulling him back against him. Their bodies nestled quite neatly together actually. Draco's legs fit perfectly to either side of Harry's hips, and leaning back against him felt just... well perfect.

"What is this?" Draco asked after a long moment, his cheek brushing the side of Harry's neck.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying (and failing) not to get aroused.

"This thing between you and I. It's insane. You've always hated me. Now, because of one drunken shag you're willing to risk your life to keep me alive?" Draco sighed, resting his forehead against his shoulder. "It makes no sense."

"Does it have to make sense?" Harry asked softly. "I admit, I don't really understand it either... I've never even been interested in a boy before. I can't even say I'm interested in boys now. I'm just... interested in _you_. For some bizarre reason, being with you just feels... _right_."

Draco processed that for a moment before speaking once again, his voice soft and rather graver than Harry liked. "Not according to the law. What's already happened... well, it happened while you were upset and we were both kaylied, so I doubt they could charge either of us for it... but if we do more... sober... knowingly... it's illegal. If we're found out, we might both go to Azkaban. It could very well even turn out to be a life sentence."

Harry was silent for a few minutes, his mind racing. Was Draco trying to duck out of getting involved? Was he really that worried about what others thought and what might happen to him? Or was he just not interested? He suddenly realized how much he'd been basing his concept of their relationship on that dream. What if it had really just been a dream? His mind making things up, just telling him what he wanted to hear? He'd just kind of assumed Draco wanted this too, so this sudden doubt was a bit startling. Trapping Draco in a relationship he didn't want just because he'd made a drunken mistake was the last thing Harry wanted to do! At length, he asked softly, "Are you afraid of going to prison?"

Draco gave a little derisive snort. "Why would I be? If _father's_ side wins, I'll never see the inside of a prison, just the inside of a grave... if I'm that lucky that is. If the 'good' side wins they'll probably find some excuse to lock me away no matter what I do. Besides, there's no way they're daft enough to trust the bloody Dementors again after they turned against them the first chance they got. Azkaban without Dementors? What's to fear there? So I'd have a less comfortable cell than I have now. Even if they beat on me for jollies they'll never come close to what I've already been through. I have no fear of prison. You, on the other hand... you're the brave hero. Everyone on the 'good side' adores you. If we go any further though... if they find out... you have no idea what depths politicians will go to to avoid scandal. If they can cover it up they will, even if it means putting us both in the ground to do it! 'Saint Potter' acting the faggot?!? If it gets out to the public they'll _crucify_ you! Especially if it was _me_ you were with! I'm the _son of Satan_. Slandering you if this got out would be all too easy. They might even make up some crime and say you did it, say you were working for the other side all along so they can toss you in prison and write you off! Either that, or they'll paint me as some conniving, sadistic rapist who either brainwashed or intimidated you into letting me molest you... and you'll be the poor, helpless victim who obviously can't look after himself and will have to be tended to for the rest of your miserable life so no one else can 'take advantage of you'. Think about it. Think about your reputation. Is this really worth that to you?"

"So is that it?" Harry asked. "That's all you're worried about? My reputation?"

Draco let out a little amused breath that tickled the hairs on the back of Harry's neck, making him shiver slightly. "You make it sound trivial."

"Because it is." Harry shot back immediately. "Ever since I turned eleven and entered the magical world, my whole life has been worrying about what others thought, living up to their expectations and what I was supposed to do. It's bullshite! I'm tired of it and I'm wash of it! They can think whatever the bloody Hell they want! Their precious 'destiny' is over. It's time for them to let me write my own story. They owe me that much!"

"I doubt they'll see it that way." Draco replied.

"Well then fuck 'em!" Harry spat, settling back against Draco's chest. "I've earned the right to be happy... I just... I guess I never really believed I _could_ be. These last couple of years everything has just become too much! So much pain and suffering... and loss..." He said, trailing off with an ache in his voice.

Draco held him close, pressing his cheek to Harry's comfortingly when Harry let his head drift back onto Draco's shoulder.

"I don't feel like other people." Harry said softly after a long moment. "No matter how much I try to fit in and be like them, I've always felt separate. No one understood how I felt. Some tried, but how could they, really? They haven't been through it. They haven't felt the pain and loss and helplessness. Having others dictate their lives and having absolutely no say in it. People taking one look at you, at your name and assuming everything about you."

Draco let out a little rueful breath. "I certainly know what _that's_ like." He muttered darkly.

"Exactly!" Harry replied. "You're the only one who truly does. The only one I don't have to explain myself to or put on a facade for. And when you..." He trailed off, blushing and unable to make himself describe what had happened between them aloud. "It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt." he whispered. His smile faded a bit. "Of course if it was just sex for you, then I guess I sound like a right fool."

Draco was silent for a long moment. Long enough to let Harry start to worry.

"I'm not in love with you." Draco said seriously.

"I never said I thought you were." Harry replied immediately, his cheeks burning as he turned his head away, starting to shift up. It's not like he expected Draco to profess undying love for him, but he hadn't expected the open denial to hurt so very deeply.

Draco sighed and pulled him back, not releasing his hold on him. "I'm not trying to be cruel. I just... I didn't want to lead you on. I'm not saying I don't like you or anything. It wasn't just sex for me... but it wasn't a declaration of true love either. I just want you to keep it in prospective. You were a virgin, and I know sometimes the first time can be a profound event... just remember that the instant attachment you feel for the one who took your virginity might just be a crush. Not to mention you've been trapped here in rather extreme isolation for what must seem like forever with me as your only company. It's normal to feel a need to be close to me. You're lonely, anyone could understand that. But who knows? Maybe the war will end tomorrow and you'll be back in the 'real world' with all your friends and admirers around you again. You're not like me. I'll bet you anything you'll quickly realize that what you really want is a girl. And even on the slim chance you decide you like boys after all... well, let's be truthful, you could do a great deal better. Why would you risk a promising future for a bit of fun today?"

"'Better' is a highly subjective term." Harry replied evenly. "How about lets just be completely candid. No more 'you'd be better off' tripe. Taking only yourself, your thoughts, emotions and whatnot into account... do you want me or not?"

Draco let out a little breath. "That's a daft question. I have no illusions that I have any future once this war is over. Why _wouldn't_ I want to shag your arse off until that day comes and they drag me off to my grisly fate?"

Harry let out an amused breath. "Well, I did ask for honesty."

"So?" Draco prompted after a minute, "What's _your_ verdict then?"

"Well... as much as you talk about my 'bright future', I can't see it. I can't bring myself to believe that it exists. I don't think I could handle another letdown on that scale. I choose to live only in the present... and right now I find pleasure in your touch, in being with you." Harry shifted around a bit so he could face him. "I tell you what... what say we get out of here and go find that little present Archer gave you. Then perhaps we can try that again... but sober this time. Who knows... maybe it won't be nearly as good without the alcohol. We might even both lose interest. I must admit, though... I rather strongly suspect that being your lover would be a bit more interesting than sitting around and letting a marble read books to me. If you're game, perhaps we could test out the theory."

Draco chuckled softly, then captured his lips. He lingered there only briefly before releasing him and working his way up. He helped Harry up, then set the tub to draining. "Let's get you finished up then, shall we? I'll show you the spell, then give me the wand. The spell stays on the wand until it's dismissed."

Harry just nodded and did as directed. It only took him a minute to learn the spell, and then Draco took over. He could feel Draco passing the wand around his legs, but only from the ever so slight breeze of his hand passing. He couldn't feel the spell itself at all, though he imagined Draco would have figured it out right quick if Harry had cast it wrong.

"Cover up your choicer bits unless you want to be a sconner." Draco said in an amused voice as the wand drifted up Harry's inner thigh. Harry quickly complied. "Not that there's anything wrong with that." Draco added distractedly, "Tried it myself once on a lark. Not something I'd want permanent, though. You need some coverage in that area in my opinion." He said as he carefully moved the wand around Harry's hands. Draco moved around him. "Cover the boys unless you'd like to give them a shave." He said as he nudged Harry's ankles apart a bit.

"Um... not right now, thanks." Harry said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He hadn't expected the shave to get quite so intimate. He thought it would just be a simple wave of the wand and it would be done or something of the like. Still, he'd asked for it, so he didn't want to chicken out now.

"Suit yourself. I only kept it in front myself, but then if you ever got one of those nether hairs pulled on accident with ridiculously amplified senses, you'd oust them right quick as well, I expect." Draco said with amusement.

Harry chuckled a bit nervously. "Probably right." He waited patiently as Draco moved the wand up, running it over his back, then taking his arms and doing them as well. Apparently Draco had been serious about having removed every unnecessary hair. Harry had never had much for body hair, but he was still a bit nervous about having it all removed. Was it going to feel odd? After another moment of contemplation he breathed the nervousness out. What did it matter? He'd get used to it. Draco finished up with his chest, then pulled the wand away, obviously looking for anything he'd missed.

"I don't think you got all of my lower stomach." He pointed out helpfully.

Draco chuckled softly. "I happen to like that little trail of hair that leads down from the navel." He said, reaching out and brushing the back of his finger down the light little trail of hair in question.

Harry let out a little shuddering breath.

"Sorry." Draco said with amusement. He cancelled the spell and set Harry's wand aside once more. Harry started to get out, but Draco's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Where are you going? You're not done yet." Draco said, shifting over and retrieving something from the bag on the floor.

Harry just sighed softly and resigned himself to being at Draco's mercy. Actually, he found he didn't mind that much when Draco put his hands on him again. His hands were covered with some slightly oily, ever-so-slightly abrasive feeling substance. Harry just stood there complacently, moving as directed as Draco seemed intend on rubbing the substance over nearly every inch of his body. Luckily, whatever it was seemed to retain the heat of Draco's hands, keeping him warm. He'd been on the verge of goosebumps before that. Of course he had to contend with being achingly hard... his hampton appeared to be about the only part of him Draco wasn't touching. Harry furrowed his brow curiously as he heard Draco turn the water on again, then started a bit as the shower sprang on.

"Final rinse." Draco informed him.

"Ah." Harry replied, not objecting in the least as Draco shifted him around, his hands stroking his body to insure complete cleanliness. Though it had felt oily, it rinsed off cleanly. Draco was almost teasing in his rather professional manner... never letting his hands linger. He even shampooed and conditioned Harry's hair. His own as well, for that matter. Harry rather enjoyed feeling him press up against him a bit to get under the flow of water when he rinsed. When the water was finally turned off he was made to stay there as Draco misted him with something or another while he was still wet. It smelled pleasant enough at least, rather like sweet, fresh cut grass. After that he was efficiently dried off (apparently the house elf had returned at some point... either that or Archer did laundry as well...), which made his freshly scrubbed skin feel rather sensitive. That substance Draco had rubbed on him had obviously been deceptively efficient. Or perhaps it was simply the lack of hair starting to make itself felt. That done, Draco took each of his hands in turn, covering them with a generous slathering of lotion.

"Good thing you just trimmed your nails." Draco said musingly. "I'll let you forgo the manicure for now."

"Gee, thanks." Harry said sarcastically.

"You're welcome." Draco said deadpan. "Come along, Mr. Potter."

Harry grinned, letting Draco help him out of the tub, then lead him out. When he got to Draco's bed, he climbed on it, then flopped over onto his back, waiting eagerly. He could feel the anticipation tingle through him as he felt the bed shift. He could feel the heat of Draco's body as the boy moved closer, pausing mere inches from him in an almost teasing fashion. Harry shifted his head up, having no trouble locating the lips that waited for him. The feel of the passion in the kiss... in the battling of their tongues was exquisite. He found himself trying to memorize the feel of it. No matter what may happen later, and he refused to allow himself to think on it now... but whatever happened, he never wanted to forget this... _any_ of it... because at this moment he couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else.

When Draco finally broke the kiss Harry found he was alright with it ending... especially since Draco wasted no time, letting his lips trail down the side of Harry's neck. Harry shivered after a moment. He'd never thought of his neck as particularly sensitive, but he could feel every brush of his lips, no matter how light. The smells of the potions and such Draco had used on him increased as his body warmed, but they didn't quite cover the hint of the cologne Draco usually wore. He knew the boy hadn't put any on since the shower, but a bit of the smell seemed to be ingrained in his skin. A few errant strands of Draco's damp hair left cold trails across his shoulder, making him shiver... but the feel of Draco's warm breath that flowed across his skin as the boy exhaled was bloody mind blowing! He could feel every fold of the soft sheet below him as he squirmed slightly, the lips on his neck becoming almost too much.

Draco drifted down, kissing his way down his chest a bit. It was insane how aware he was of those lips... the brush of the tip of his nose when it grazed him, the fingers that rested on him... the feel of Draco's chest pressed against him. He could feel Draco's nipple as it brushed his skin, the slight dampness from the recent shower wanting to make their skin cling together ever so slightly... he could even feel the scars. He shuddered, feeling them against him. Though they had been barely noticeable to him before, even to his fingertips, they were all now strikingly apparent. He'd only ever seen them that once in the dream... but right now they were more vivid to him than anything else had ever been. He reached up, brushing his hand down Draco's side and... well he obviously couldn't see, but everywhere he touched became suddenly real to him in a way he couldn't describe. It was beyond anything he'd ever known. It was like he'd been completely numb before, and something inside him had suddenly awoken his senses.

Draco's tongue brushed his nipple and Harry cried out, his back arching. "Merlin, what are you doing to me?" Harry panted when his muscles finally relaxed a bit.

Draco chuckled softly and the feel of the warm breath hitting his skin made Harry shudder again.

"Sorry. Just trying out what Archer taught me. I guess it works." Draco replied, shifting his head up a bit to keep his breath from hitting Harry's skin as he spoke.

Harry suddenly remembered Archer saying that he could teach Draco to share the heightened sensitivity that had been forced on him. So that's what they'd been discussing while Harry soaked in the tub! "Bloody Hell..." Harry said incredulously. "You mean you go about feeling like this all the time?"

"Actually, you're probably only feeling about a quarter to a half of it. He said I'd be able to convey more with practice, but I'd never subject you to the full brunt of it. That'd just be cruel."

Harry's mouth hung open a bit. He lay there, feeling the incredible intensity of his senses. He could feel everything! He'd never imagined one could be so aware and attuned to his surroundings... and Draco felt twice this or more?!? How on Earth was this boy still sane?!?

"I can stop." Draco offered.

Harry felt his awareness dimming. "NO!" He quickly blurted.

"You want that?" Draco said, obviously surprised.

Harry blushed slightly at the abruptness of his reply. "Maybe not _quite_ as intense... but yes. Please don't take it away." Harry replied earnestly.

"Ok." Draco said simply.

Harry let out a rapturous breath as the sensations flooded back to him. He let his hands begin to explore Draco. It was hard to explain what these heightened senses did to his perception. It was like he'd had an idea of what Draco looked like before... a vague shadow made up of memory... but when he ran his hands along Draco's skin, feeling him with this new sense... it was almost like he was painting in the image. In his mind the sensations were so vivid he could _see_ what he was feeling... and the image lingered. He ran his hands over Draco, eagerly trying to paint every inch of this mental image. For his part, Draco just let him, shifting over to accommodate him. Harry got a strong feeling that Draco was bemused by this... but he wasn't sure if that was just his imagination.

When he was done he stilled, just laying there and marveling at the image in his mind. It felt for all the world as if he was really seeing Draco laying there beside him. He started slightly as Draco's hand brushed his side. The image had been so convincing he'd forgotten it was just in his mind, a mere figment of his imagination, so he hadn't expected the movement he hadn't seen. As Draco's hand came to rest Harry's mind registered the position of it and he watched in fascination as his mental image of Draco reached over, instantly matching up with real life.

"You alright?" Draco asked.

Draco's lips moved in time with his voice. Harry reached up, placing his hand on Draco's cheek and his image changed a bit, his expression becoming concerned and a bit confused. Harry let out a little laugh. Every movement that Draco made that Harry could hear or feel was translated into this amazing new mental image. Well, he supposed it had always been like this in a way, but it was one thing imagining what someone might look like if they moved or spoke... quite another to see it played out for him in his mind! He couldn't help but wonder how long the image would last.

"I'm fine. Better than fine in fact." Harry said, smiling radiantly. "It's brilliant!"

Draco's cheek shifted under Harry's hand and his image of Draco smiled warmly. "Good." Draco said softly, his hands returning to their earlier exploring.

Harry didn't hesitate at all, letting Draco roll him over onto his stomach without protest. He couldn't get over how amazing everything felt. Even when it was just fingertips grazing his skin in passing or the soft brush of Draco's inner thigh against his leg. He shivered as Draco kissed his back. There was nothing he wanted more than to experience what he'd felt the last time, but sober and fully aware. He wondered if he'd really be able to imagine him completely while they were shagging. He could still see him now, but it felt a bit awkward since Draco was behind him. He shivered, brought back from his musings as he realized Draco was kissing his way down his spine. Whatever was he playing at? He tensed when the boy reached the small of his back, suddenly realizing what Draco intended to do. He quickly but carefully turned over, having to fight his instincts to make sure he moved slow enough so the unexpected move wouldn't hurt Draco.

"It's ok." Draco said soothingly. "I just want to show you something. Just turn back over."

"No!" Harry said, pulling away a bit more.

"I was just trying to..." Draco started in a placating tone.

"I know very well what you were doing! I may have been a virgin, but I wasn't deaf. I just don't want you to." Harry said quickly.

"We're fresh from the shower." Draco said, "You're perfectly clean."

"I don't care. I don't want your mouth anywhere near there!" Harry said stubbornly.

"You didn't seem to mind the idea of my hampton in there." Draco said with obvious amusement.

"Well, where you chose to put your choicer bits is your business, and it feels good, so I'm not objecting... but if you ever want to put that tongue in my mouth again, keep it north of the equator."

Draco let out an amused breath. "You kissed me after I went down on you." He pointed out.

"Yes... well... I mean I don't shite through my hampton, now do I?" He said a bit gruffly.

Draco sighed, then shifted over, fetching something off the bedside table. When he placed it in Harry's hand he realized it was his wand. "Ok, I'm going to show you a spell."

Harry sighed, very much doubting there was any spell other than perhaps Obliviate that would change his viewpoint, but he humored him. It was a simple spell at least. Once he had it down, Draco shifted up onto his knees and had Harry cast the spell. Harry was a bit nervous as his wand tapped Draco's stomach and he felt the power flow through him, but he was also very curious as to what this spell did. He was both relieved and a little let down with it had no readily apparent effect.

"Alright, you appear to have it down. Now try it on yourself." Draco said as he settled down once more. "Be sure to tap below the navel."

Well, it'd had no obvious ill effects on Draco, and his curiosity about what it did had yet to be sated, so he shifted up and tried it on himself. As soon as it had been cast, he felt a sensation in his gut that was hard to describe. It was like a sudden hollowness... as if he'd felt full before without realizing it until the feeling was gone. "What just happened?"

"You banished the contents of your lower intestines." Draco replied, taking the wand and returning it the bedside table. "Lots of folk who like to take it up the arse use it. Makes it clean. It was originally created as a medical spell. Clears bowel obstructions and the like. I met a bloke once who used it all the time. Said he hadn't taken a shite in years. I've even known a few girls who cast it higher, cleaning out the whole digestive track. A bit of an extreme method for a diet in my opinion."

Harry sighed. "Listen, I don't care if it's 'clean'. I'm still uncomfortable with the idea."

There was a pause, then there was a slight shift which Harry interpreted as a shrug. "Fine. I'm certainly not going to force it on you. You're still ok with me going down on you though, right?"

Harry sighed, then shook his head.

"You can't be serious! I've been told I'm pretty good." Draco replied.

"It was amazing. I just... I don't think I could ever do that to you... and I don't think it's right having you do that when I'm not willing to reciprocate." Harry said a bit morosely.

"I'd never ask you to." Draco said softly.

"Ya, but I'd feel obliged." Harry muttered. "I'm sorry. And it's not personal... or even gender related for that matter. I don't think I could go down on a girl either. The idea is just..." Harry shivered in disgust.

"Well, you'd definitely be missing out on that count. There is absolutely nothing like making a girl scream and writhe about in pleasure with your tongue alone. I think I did that to just about every girl I ever shagged... and a couple I didn't get that far with as well actually. In a way it's just like going down on a boy... but in other ways it's worlds different. With girls, I'd go down on just about any of them that I fancied in the slightest, but it was almost like a power trip really. Even if we didn't end up shagging it was worth it for me because of how much they adored me for it, and it stroked my ego if nothing else. My tongue had _quite_ a reputation amongst the ladies. Not all of them liked how long it took me to shag, but I never once heard a complaint about my foreplay. It wasn't really the same with a boy though. To me, going down on a boy is more an expression of affection. To be honest, it seemed almost more intimate than actual sex. It's giving pleasure without asking anything in return. It's just for them, like a gift. It's not about dominating them, and most definitely not about reputation, so my ego never tainted it. I have never asked anyone, male _or_ female, to do that to me and I never will. I find the very idea of _asking_ for such a gift... well, it would just be _rude_. Insulting even. It's something that should be given freely and spontaneously or not at all. I never, ever want you to feel obliged to do _anything_ you don't want to with me. If something makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop. I may ask you if you want to try things sometimes, but if you don't want to, you don't want to. Please promise me you'll always be honest about such things."

Harry gave him a little smile and nodded. "I promise."

"So you're ok with me going down on you if the mood strikes?"

Harry let out a little amused breath. "I think I can deal with that if you really want to... But... um... weren't you about to try out Archer's present? With this insane sensitivity I'm not sure how long I'm going to be able to handle it once we go beyond just touching and kissing, and I'd feel a mite embarrassed if I was the only one who got off."

Draco chuckled softly, "As you wish." He said agreeably, grabbing something up off the bedside table... and Harry was pretty sure it wasn't his wand.

Harry shifted back over onto his stomach, his insides feeling a bit jittery with anticipation. Would he be able to 'see' him? That would be so amazing... but then he remembered how awkward it had felt trying to 'see' him when he was behind him. He was sure he'd get used to it, but still... he let out a little sigh.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, obviously hearing it.

"Nothing." Harry replied quickly, afraid Draco would think he didn't really want to go further. "I was just wishing I didn't have to face away from you." He admitted when it became obvious from Draco's silence that he wasn't buying it.

"Oh." Draco said with a little chuckle, "Well then flip back over. To be honest, missionary is one of my favorite positions. I just didn't think you'd be up for it yet."

Harry turned a bit uncertainly. "Can you do that? With two boys I mean?"

"Of course you can. You just have to be a little bit more flexible."

Harry was still rather dubious, but let Draco move him about. He wasn't sure the pillow under his head was going to be conducive to the position, but Draco was the expert here, so he didn't question it. He blushed a bit when Draco shifted his legs up and knelt between them. Thinking of himself as being the 'submissive' of the two of them was one thing... but in this position there was no two ways about it... he was the girl! The thought was a bit mortifying, but he didn't object. He might as well try it at least once. He was distracted from his thoughts a moment later when his senses suddenly dimmed back to normal. "Hey!" He said immediately.

"This can sometimes hurt even if you're experienced and want it. Didn't think you'd want that enhanced." Draco said with amusement.

"Oh. Right." Harry said, quickly trying to relax himself. It had been painful enough the first time. He certainly didn't want that amplified! He didn't know whether it was the knowledge of how amazing it would feel in a few minutes or the new lube, but much to his relief it barely twinged this time.

"You ok?" Draco asked worriedly.

Harry just nodded. "You can turn it back on now." He added eagerly. He knew the lack of pain must mean Archer had used something to heal him up a bit, and that thought should have utterly mortified him, but he shoved it aside for the moment. He let out a groan of pure bliss as the amplified senses flooded back to him. Harry wasn't sure how good regular lubricant was, but this kind was amazing. It was obvious Draco thought so as well, though the way he conveyed that wasn't verbal. Harry twined his fingers tightly in the sheets, grasping them and wondering feverishly how long he could possibly handle this. The bliss of his body was matched only by the wondrous mental image of Draco there above him, taking him with such passion. Perhaps it was just in his mind, but after he'd gone blind he'd thought he'd never be able to see anyone while they were making love to him, so this was really far more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Open your eyes." Draco panted.

Harry complied without thought. It did nothing for him of course, but Draco let out a low groan and picked up his pace a bit. After a minute he shifted Harry's leg up a bit more and shifted forward, bracing his arm beside Harry's shoulder. "Time to show you why I love this position." He panted mischievously.

Before Harry could even venture a guess as to why Draco dipped his head down, capturing Harry's lips. Harry groaned into the kiss, instantly releasing the sheets and wrapping his arms around Draco. When he shifted up to deepen the kiss he felt a bit like he was folded in half, but he didn't care in the slightest. At least he knew now why Draco had propped his head up. He never imagined two boys could snog and shag at the same time! Their kisses were short and sporadic, a mix of impassioned lips, groans, battling tongues and increasingly desperate gasps for breath... and over all the most brilliant thing imaginable. Despite the intensity of Draco's movements and the mind blowing shudders and spasms of ecstasy that shook Harry's body, Harry managed to kept his hands on Draco constantly, wanting to see every nuance. It seemed forever their bodies stayed locked in blissful battle, and at the same time it surprised him when he felt Draco nearing the end. He quickly slipped his hands up, placing them on either side of Draco's face. The breath caught in Harry's chest as Draco tensed. He couldn't help but wonder dazedly if what he saw could possibly be how Draco's face truly looked at that moment. Could it truly form an expression so utterly angelic in its perfection?

Once Draco was able to move again, he shifted around a bit, then slumped down on top of Harry. While Harry was grateful to be able to shift his legs down again (that position started to strain his muscles a bit after a while, though he hadn't noticed before now), he held tight to Draco, not wanting to let him go. Once they had both caught their breath properly, he shifted his head over, reclaiming Draco's lips. It was much less intense now, gentler, but deeper at the same time.

It was quite some time later when Draco finally pulled gently away, ending the lovely snogging session. He shifted up a bit. "Bloody Hell!" He chuckled softly. "How many times did you finish?"

"No idea." Harry replied with a deeply contented smile. "I can try to keep track next time if you really want a count."

"I didn't even have to touch you." Draco mused.

Harry gave a little laugh. "I probably would have passed out if you had!"

"I kind of doubt that." Draco said with amusement, though it seemed a bit hollow, "I don't know why, but that potion they gave me seems to make it near impossible to pass out from sensation alone. Blood loss and exhaustion, sure, but not the potion's effects alone. Maybe the mental stimulation is just too much to be ignored like that. Anyway, I suspect I was sharing enough to keep you conscious as well. I don't know too many cherrys that could have handled that without passing out otherwise."

"That's probably a good thing for me." Harry said quickly, steering Draco away from an obviously touchy subject, "Otherwise I probably would have conked out before we even got started proper. I think I was barely holding it together last time, and that was with normal senses!"

"To be honest, it was nice not feeling quite so much." Draco said, obviously trying to shake the subject, "It didn't even hurt this time."

"Shagging me hurt you last time?!?" Harry asked in shock. "I thought it only hurt if you were the one... you know... getting shagged."

"It didn't just hurt with you. I can't even have a wank without pain nowadays. When I finish, it's just... it's _too much pleasure_. With that kind of intensity, it becomes _excruciating_. Sometimes it lingers for a bit and I can't even move without intense pain until it subsides. I just don't think the human mind was made to handle something that intense. This time, it was still almost too much... but not quite to the point of incapacitating agony."

"Why did you want sex at all if you knew it was going to be so painful?" Harry asked incredulously.

Draco let out an amused breath. "It hurt, but it still felt amazing. I usually tried to avoid doing it... but the desire for it overwhelmed my better judgment sometimes. I _love_ the feeling... and yet I _hate_ it at the same time. I'm not sure if I can really explain it proper."

Harry tried to process that for a minute, then gave up. "I'll just take your word for it."

Draco just shrugged, "Well, we should probably clean up..." he said, shifting over a bit. When he shifted back he placed Harry's wand in his hand.

Harry obligingly cast the cleansing spells, then dropped his wand aside and pulled Draco back close. "It was bloody _magnificent!_" He sighed blissfully. "You were..." He paused, searching for a term that was adequate. "Almost god-like."

Draco let out a little snort. "Probably closer to _demonic_, really..." He corrected with amusement, "Corrupting and desecrating the poor innocent with my evil, deviant ways."

"Yes, well if your demonic nature should surface again and you happen to sprout a _horn_, I'd be happy to help you figure out where to stick it!" Harry replied deadpan.

Draco snickered, then leaned down and took the snogging session back up where they'd left off.

0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0

A/N - Just to clarify, no Harry can't really 'see' Draco. It's like... if you close your eyes and listen to someone near you, moving around and such and you know them so well you can picture them doing these things... You can't see them doing them really, but so long as you somehow know what they are doing (through your other senses), you can picture them doing it. Now amplify the clarity of that mental image like tenfold. He's imagining Draco so vividly it feels like really seeing him. This is no way, shape or form a 'he's not blind anymore' type cheat. He's just developed a better imagination.


End file.
